Beyond the Realms: Lacrimosa
by Shimy
Summary: Part 1 out of 3. No summary this time. Read and find out for yourselves! Happens a couple of years after 'Footprints'. Rated T for violence  mainly .
1. Prologue

**Author's note: Here it is! The prologue of my second multi-chapter story for this amazing fandom! Come embark with me on this journey, and I hope you will not regret it! **

**Also, if you like reading while listening to music, I suggest the "Disparus" track from the movie "Oceans" for this prologue (which, by the way, I have edited)**

**Enjoy yourselves!**

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**HTTYD: Beyond the realms**

**Part I: Lacrimosa**

"_**There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love." **_**(Washington Irving)**

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The seagulls flew high above the cold waters of the Norse sea, beating their wings ever so regularly and resuming their peaceful gliding. The whale's road was never the same, changing from minute to minute, and the waves invariably danced beyond the horizon. Sometimes, they were small and playful, and the seagulls would dive easily through them to catch their daily preys. And sometimes, the waves morphed into gigantic and deadly liquid walls and rare were the creatures who dared to challenge them in their powerful waltz.

That day, the young seagulls took pleasure in performing aerobatics until they reached the curtain of mist their parents had taught them never to fly into, for this was a sad and forsaken place, inhabited by such hatred and bitterness that it remained lost to those who did not know where it was. The seagulls obeyed the laws and never passed through the mist unless the light of the sun or that of the full moon tore it apart on a few, rare occasions. The seagulls all learned to behold the glory of the stars and listen to the whispers of the wind in order to navigate correctly through the infinite air, and they knew nothing but death awaited them within the mist.

The young seagulls flew around as the stars progressively tattooed the night's body like fireflies shimmering on the painting of the universe, and the perfumed air grew colder because of the trade wind that blew softly, bringing peace and rest along with the quiet ballet of salty scents to bodies and souls. But in the mist, the air was thick and cold. For in the mist was the isle of Arken.

There was little to be said about the isle of Arken, and even less about those who lived there. The isle merely consisted of a sheer rock, big and sturdy enough to support the weight of the castle that had been erected upon it, oblivious to the endless roars of the sea as the waves beat against it tirelessly. The five towers of the castle stood high and proud, their massive shape blurrily outlined against the obscure light of the moon that surreally still managed to force its way through the suffocating mist. The castle, although teeming with activity, was eerily silent and only a couple of rooms were still lit by the golden, flickering glow of fireplaces.

The Commander peered at what he could see of the night sky through the highest window of the main tower, whose peak was as sharp as an arrowhead. He knew he would have to leave soon. The ship was ready to set sail, and his crew awaited him on board, ready to obey him at the exact moment he would snap his fingers to signal the time to depart had come. The fire was raging behind him, but no warmth came from it. He did not care. He did not even remember the last time he had actually felt cold. Stretching the well-trained muscles of his massive body, the Commander waited patiently for his master to come and for the instructions that were to guide him through his next mission.

When he heard the footsteps echoing in the stairs alongside the peculiar noise of his master's staff, the Commander automatically checked how he looked one last time and was satisfied with what he saw. The door slightly creaked when it was opened; it had been a long time since it had been built and the wood was growing old and cracked. The Commander instantly kneeled in front of the figure that strode along towards him, and each step that was taken echoed on the rocky floor like a sinister promise. Nobody knew either what Lord Arken actually looked like, for he kept his face hidden under the black hood of the long mantle he always wore, or what his real name was. When people had started to call him by the name he had himself invented for the isle his castle was built upon, Lord Arken had offered no protest, and so the name had spread and stuck.

"My Lord. The men and I are ready to go."

"Very well, Commander. Would you like a glass of wine before you leave? I have recently received a dozen crates of a particularly wonderful one."

The Commander knew it was only a way to postpone the moment he would know what his mission did consist of. He also knew that the suave tone Lord Arken liked to use was usually a trap only idiots would fall into.

"With all due respect, my Lord, I never drink before setting sail. Alcohol and navigation do not merge together very well."

The man laughed, looking his most-trusted warrior up and down with a sly smirk.

"Always the professional type, I see. I heard you have had a problem with the eels I asked you to prepare. Is that right?"

"Yes, my Lord. I surprised one of the apprentices cutting an eel the wrong way, and its blood was spilling on the floor."

"Such a waste is indeed regrettable. What of the boy?"

The Commander allowed a cruel grin to cross his features.

"He's feeding the sharks by now. But I kept his head on a spike as a souvenir and a reminder for the others."

"Good. I have no use for screw-ups."

The long, black mantle that covered the Commander's master floated behind him as he made his way towards the fireplace.

"You have heard about that teenage boy who managed to slay a Green Death atop of a Night Fury he is said to have tamed on his own, haven't you?"

"Yes, my Lord, I have. If I remember correctly, that took place a couple of years ago."

"Four years, to be precise. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III must be seventeen or eighteen years old now. He has the reputation of having the purest soul around and he is destined to become the next chieftain of Berk. Unfortunately for him", the man added with a low chuckle, "that is unlikely to happen."

"Why?"

"I want you to go to Berk and bring that young man here, no matter whether he agrees or not. Strike quick and well, and strike first, for it is highly improbable the Vikings will let you take him away from them without a raw fight. Do not hesitate to use the eels' blood if necessary. You have a free hand. Do whatever it takes, but bring him here as soon as possible. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"If he causes any trouble, make sure he learns what the word obedience means. Pure souls don't usually surrender if you merely threaten their lives."

"If he's not afraid of death, what is he afraid of?"

Lord Arken smiled as he returned to the long wooden table on which a succulent dinner had been served.

"Pure souls are not afraid of their _own_ death. However, they would do anything to protect the ones they love. Break his heart, Commander. Break his spirit," he added whilst helping himself a glass of wine and taking a sip, "and he will follow you. Are you sure you do not want to drink?"

"I am, my Lord."

"Very well, then. You shall go."

Understanding that the conversation was over, the Commander stood up, bowed reverently and walked across the room to exit it. He had barely opened the door when his master's voice resounded again.

"By the way, Commander..."

"Yes, my Lord?"

"I have no reason to think this will happen, but if you do come back here without the boy, it is _you_ I will have the pleasure to behead."

The Commander did not reply. He knew he was not expected to. Rolling his shoulders and fastening his sword at his belt, he climbed down the stairs with every ounce of determination he could summon within him. If luck was on his side, he would be near the shores of Berk on the next day.

When the black shape of a ship pierced through the mist and headed for the North-West, the seagulls heard the way the wind blew sinisterly in its sails, and whoever who could hear the wail in their cries knew blood would flow soon.


	2. Chapter 1

It was one of the last days of summer, and there was a chill in the air that enabled the inhabitants of Berk to foresee just how fast fall would come to prepare the island for the long winter. It was a beautiful day.

Astrid pursed her lips as she looked him over. Somehow, she wasn't surprised at all that he had made all the efforts he could to look the best way possible , and ended up looking the way he usually did on any other day. The same brown, soft hair covering his forehead, the same forest-green eyes in which a hint of defiance sparkled, the same green tunic and fur vest and the same golden Ring of Heavens pendant she had given him on his eighteenth birthday. Perhaps the only change of note was his odd, almost defensive stance...

She took a moment to appreciate the tiny glimpses of his preparation, not to mention the whole package, before he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Well?" he asked shortly. "What do you think?"

She hid a smile, but she felt some of it escape to light up her eyes anyway. Not that it mattered. He was far too apprehensive today to pick up anything so subtle. Besides, she didn't really feel like hiding it out of anything more than the custom of trying not to be too obvious while laughing at his expense. After all, _she_ wasn't the one about to risk her life today.

That thought, and a sudden sneaking suspicion only augmented by his odd, unexpected defiant look, dimmed the growing laugh bubbling up in her throat and she frowned. At her change in expression, he shifted tensely. "Astrid?"

The impatience in his tone confirmed it, and her eyes narrowed. "Did you sharpen his axe this morning?"

He gave up on trying to stand still and began pacing agitatedly in front of her house, stopping suddenly to throw a baleful look at her. "Of course," he snapped. "What do you take me for?"

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind. Just... stop pacing. You're making me nervous too."

He stopped almost immediately, instinctively, the cessation bring him to a halt right in front of her. For a moment, she saw every corded muscle in his arm, every fiber of tension locked up in him, and then he sighed and relaxed. "Sorry," he muttered. "It's just..."

He caught himself, and the accusing glare returned. "Hey, wait. Why am I apologizing to you? You're the one who got me into this mess."

She lifted a perfectly curved eyebrow, leaned back and folded her arms across her chest, barely holding her impeding laughter. "Is that so? If I remember correctly, you're the one who brought the topic up in the first place."

Hiccup scowled. "Yeah, and for the record, I'm the one who's about to enter the worst life-or-death battle ever. You could at least give me some sympathy."

It was probably the slight pout that did it, just the barest protrusion of his lip and the hurt look in the green orbs she loved so much. But then again, she'd known him for long enough to fall for his tricks, so it had to have been her own mind that voluntarily set her fingers up to lightly brush his face. He looked away from her at the touch and she sighed.

"Come off it," she scolded gently, her hand following his movement to cup his cheek. He nestled into it almost absentmindedly. She reached up with her other hand and tried to stroke away the obvious nerve-wracking nervousness he felt with her thumb. "Who had the nerve to stay and fight even after being disowned and banished? Who had the determination to stick it out to the end, going into battle against the most gigantic dragon ever known to us? By Thor's hammer, Hiccup, who had the _guts_ to kidnap me on the back of a Night Fury and survive my wrath?"

Unbidden, he smiled into her palm, and she felt the movement of it slide across her skin like a beam of the sun. He raised his left hand to press against hers. "I did," he smirked, "And don't you ever forget it."

She didn't hold back the laugh this time. Instead, she let it breathe out, soar into the air between them, and then fade away as she leaned forward to press a kiss on the tip of his nose. "And with that ego, you could face down a thousand Green Deaths. Come on now, get going. He won't eat you."

At the reminder of his impending doom, Hiccup pulled back. The movement dropped their hands to their sides, and with that the nervousness returned in his frown. "Yeah, right. Then why did he tell my dad he wanted to have a talk with me before he made his decision known?"

She glared at him and pushed him gently in the back. "That's right. He wants to have a talk with you. A _talk_, Hiccup! Now move your sorry butt!"

He grudgingly began to climb up the three little stairs that led to the threshold, his strides short and forced, but he somehow managed to square his shoulders. She felt her own nerves begin to overcome her.

A few paces from the door he stopped and he returned back to her. She crossed her arms as he hesitated, silently warning him that he'd better not change his mind about the whole thing.

"You know, I really would feel more comfortable with you along." His fists clenched and unclenched nervously, and he attempted one of his lopsided grins. "I mean, I've just gotten so used to us fighting side by side now, and this is going to be one hell of a battle."

"Why, is the hero of Berk _scared_?"

The look on his face was priceless. "No! No, uh, of course not. I just..." he cleared his throat once more and straightened, trying to look as regal as possible. "I just think it would be easier if you came. You know, back-up. Strength in numbers and all that stuff."

"Hey, Hiccup." she said softly. "I believe in you."

The words sounded beautiful, almost unreal in their simplicity. For a moment after they were uttered, there was an unreadable look in his eyes. And then she reached up and kissed him, and he cracked. Sweeping down, his arms came around her tightly as he kissed her fiercely back, and for a moment there was nothing but them, their past, and the words left unspoken in their fire.

She pulled back first, the arbiter of necessity. He withdrew reluctantly, committing every inch of her to his memory as he pulled away. And then he smiled again, like she had given him the keys to some holy chests, and he climbed up the stairs again and disappeared behind the door of her house.

It took a few seconds for her to comprehend again the enormity of what was about to happen, and suddenly the impulse to run after him, be with him was almost irresistible.

She shook her head firmly. No, she couldn't think like that. After all, they'd planned it already. She'd set up the groundwork so at least there would be no element of surprise. Now it was all up to him. Him, and who was on the other side of the door.

She stared at it, and didn't budge an inch when she heard the rest of her friends come up to her.

"Do you think he will come out alive?" was the question Snotlout asked her. Ruffnut snorted wickedly.

"Is it just me or are you hoping he won't?"

"There's no reason why he shouldn't", Fishlegs intervened before things turned violent between his oh-so-unexpected girlfriend and Hiccup's cousin, "After all, he's only asking for the obvious."

"Yeah, nothing's easier than asking _that_ to _Arvarodd Hofferson_, dude."

"Shut up, troll-breath."

"Shut up yourself!"

Astrid growled, and the twins took their cue to stop their bickering before she began to take it out on them, but not after Ruffnut shoved her elbow into her brother's stomach for good measure.

Time passed. And passed. And passed. And Astrid was becoming restless. What was Hiccup doing? Why hadn't he come back yet? He could not have screwed up this, could he?"

"Be patient, Astrid. Everything will turn out just fine, you'll see."

The blonde Viking turned round, almost startled by the warm voice that had just reached her ears, and smiled softly when she saw to whom the thin, wrinkle hand that was resting on one of her shoulders belonged to. Old Wrinkly. Hiccup's grandfather –on his mother's side-, was one of the village's best healers, as well as a wise soothsayer and the one person on Berk who had _always_ believed in his grandson's abilities. Hiccup had often told her about how grateful he was for that, how much it had always meant to him, how crucial it had been for him to have at least one person in his childhood he could always count on and tell everything and how much he loved the old man. Astrid had grown rather fond of him, too.

"Patience is not my field of expertise, I'm afraid."

Old Wrinkly smiled, his knowledgeable eyes shining with mischief, and he shook his head tolerantly.

"Arvarodd is not blind. He knows you two are a perfect match. I for one think he wanted to make sure Hiccup understands how lucky he is to have you." He chuckled at the way Astrid blushed and cursed herself for it at hearing his words. "Anyway, I am proud to see that Hiccup has inherited my wonderful taste in women."

Astrid had to admit, if Old Wrinkly was trying to lift her spirits, he was pretty good at it. No wonder Hiccup was so good with words.

"Thank you."

It was a beautiful day. And even if it had not been the case, Hiccup still would have deemed that day blessed by the Gods. Feeling light-headed and utterly giddy as if he had just ingurgitated a whole barrel of mead, the eighteen years-old Viking somehow managed to exit the Hoffersons' dwelling place without cheering and/or bouncing up and down. He saw his grandfather and all of his friends waiting for him at Astrid's side, impatient looks carved on their faces, and he allowed himself to smile his widest smile as he gave them a thumbs-up. Immediately, they erupted into cheers and laughter and whistles whilst Astrid ran up to him and tackled him to the ground, locking her lips with his in the fiercest kiss she could muster.

When the both of them finally pulled away from each other, the respective grins they allowed to cross their features were the same and told the same thing: they were getting married.

It was a beautiful day, and nothing could possibly ruin it. Or so they thought.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's note: And a second chapter for you guys. Be warned! This is a rather violent chapter, both physically and psychologically. Don't forget to give me some feedback ;)**

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It had understandably taken a while for Hiccup and Astrid to calm down, but Old Wrinkly had eventually managed to convince his grandson to come with him in the forest. He was getting too old to go there on his own, and he really needed to gather some herbs whose healing properties were priceless for the tribe before the cold destroyed them. He would have asked Fishlegs to do it, but his apprentice had more important things to learn at the moment. Astrid had insisted on accompanying her husband-to-be, and so the three of them had landed in a small lowland on the other end of the island after a short flight on Toothless's back. The Night Fury was obviously in an incredibly good mood, and Astrid had wondered if he could feel the utter excitement his rider and herself were sharing.

All healers knew that lowland, for most medicinal herbs could be found there. Old Wrinkly clapped his hands enthusiastically and started looking for the herbs he wanted, Hiccup and Astrid on his heels, ready to pick them up whenever he would ask them to.

Unfortunately, none of them did notice straight away the way the sky had darkened and the big, black clouds that were ready to let the water they had swallowed pour down on the ground. In regard to the dark shape of the ship that was docked down below, it remained lost to their eyes.

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The Commander smirked behind the clump of ash trees that hid him from his prey. He simply could not believe his luck. His mission was going to be a lot easier than he had originally planned it to be. He had thought of countless ways to reach the village unseen, and had just started giving instructions to his thirty men when one of them had pointed to the sky and the Night Fury that flew in it with three riders on his back. He had instantly checked the direction in which the wind was blowing and had taken great pride in his earlier decision to remain against the wind at all times. His smirk only grew wider when he felt droplets of rain crashing on his face. Good. The weather was definitely on his side. If they acted fast enough, the dragon wouldn't be able to smell them in time, let alone breathe fire.

The Commander motioned for his right-hand-man to noiselessly come closer. As soon as the man stood beside him, the Commander started whispering in the cold, methodic manner that was his signature.

"Tagor, have you dipped all the arrows into eels' blood?"

"Aye, Commander. The archers are ready."

"Good. Take your men and surround the lowland. The beast will smell you at some point. As soon as it does, shoot it. The others and I will take care of the rest."

Tagor knew better than to argue with the Commander. He simply nodded once and walked away, ready to play his part in the plan that was going to be set into motion.

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Hiccup gave Astrid one of the pouches which contained the herbs they had gathered, and they both began to stride along to where Toothless was happily rolling himself in the grass, oblivious to the three humans he had come with. Rain was starting to fall on them, and Hiccup suddenly turned round to see what in Midgard was his grandfather doing. Sure enough, Old Wrinkly was still bent over the ground, looking for some more herbs and not caring one bit about the impeding storm. The young man shook his head in mock exasperation.

"Grandpa! Come on, we've got enough of those! Let's go back home before we're soaking wet!"

The healer either _really_ did not hear his grandson calling for him or pretended he did not. Whatever the case, Hiccup sighed and turned to Astrid, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips and gently asking her to prepare Toothless's harness for the three of them. She nodded with a smile, and he unlaced their fingers, running as best as he could towards Old Wrinkly.

"Grandpa." Hiccup gently called as he put his arm on the old man's shoulder. "Grandpa, we need to go now. Look at the sky."

The healer complied and immediately frowned. "Oh, yes. You're right. Just give me a minute, son. There are some precious herbs here, it would be a shame not to take them, you see."

"But, Grandpa…"

"Hiccup, this is my duty as the village's main healer. You can give me one more minute, can you not?"

The young man sighed heavily, looking down. He hated it when his grandfather scolded him, even when he did it in a gentle tone. Old Wrinkly immediately noticed the shadow of sadness that crossed his grandson's features and he could not prevent himself from smiling softly. Oh, what a shame it was that his daughter had died so soon. She would have been so proud of her son, the son who resembled her so much.

"Hiccup, listen to me. I know you're dying to go and forge a ring for her, and I understand that perfectly. Trust me, I'll be with you and Astrid and Toothless in a couple of minutes. Now go join her."

In the meantime, Astrid was busy scratching the Night Fury in his favorite spots, listening to the way Toothless made rumbling sounds of contentment. The rain was starting to turn itself into a thick curtain of water, the sky now almost black above her head. She liked the rain, and treasured the feeling of the wind in her face. Suddenly, she noticed the wind had just veered round and her thoughts were brutally shattered when Toothless raised his head up in alarm, sniffing the air and growling and obviously smelling something she could not.

"HICCUP!"

Both men spun round upon hearing the urgency in Astrid's voice.

"HICCUP! TOOTHLESS IS SMELLING SOMETHING WRONG!"

Hiccup refused to panic, although the temptation was quite strong, and started running over to where his fiancée and his dragon were. But he had barely taken a dozen steps when countless arrows started cleaving through the air from all around him. Out of sheer instinct of survival, he plunged down to avoid them…and was horribly confused when none of them hit him. And it was at that precise moment that he heard the most terrible sound he had ever heard since the night he had shot Toothless down. His dragon was roaring in pain, and it made Hiccup feel sick in the pit of his stomach. Looking up in utter horror, Hiccup saw Astrid trying to protect Toothless from the flying projectiles, cursing loudly whoever was attacking them. Toothless, who was doubling up with pain, reaching behind him to tear the arrows that had found their target out of his flesh and trying to shoot fireballs to no avail. The rain made it impossible.

Hiccup was deaf and Hiccup was blind. The only thing that existed to him in that moment was his best friend who was being driven mad. He lifted himself up from the mud, and ran, only to stop again when about fifteen men in black armors rushed into the lowland, screaming hateful cries and brandishing their blades over their heads.

Hiccup quickly looked at Astrid who expertly threw a hatchet at one of their opponents. The weapon spanned almost too quickly for the eye to see, and easily dug into the skull of the soldier it had been thrown at. Hiccup knew the man was dead before he hit the ground in a gruesome heap. Letting our her war cry, Astrid hurled herself at a group of five men, killed the first three by slicing their throats without even looking, and seemed to easily overpower the two who were left when one of them unexpectedly dodged her powerful swing and managed to stab his own sword at her side. Banishing the cry of pain from her mouth, for she knew the wound was superficial, Astrid still managed to free herself from her assailant to whom she didn't give a second to realize her axe was finding its way between his shoulder blades. But her last attacker, who, she realized only a moment too late, stood behind her, did not lose the opportunity to barrel into her and pin her to the ground under his weight. She roared at the top of her lungs, trying to get rid of him by punching and kicking as hard as she could, but the coward was too heavy and was pressing his knees into her back to make sure she could not really move and would exhaust herself before soon.

As for Toothless, he had collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily.

Hiccup was rooted to the spot. He didn't understand. Why was nobody trying to attack _him_? Shaking his head vigorously, Hiccup resumed running and fell to his knees in front of his dragon. Tears welled up in his eyes as he saw the shiny scales of his best friend slowly turn from pitch black into a dark grey, and eventually into a pale white. The dragon's eyes usually bright eyes were veiled now.

"Toothless! Toothless! Oh, gods, Toothless, I'm so sorry… I-

"Well, well, well. If this isn't the legendary Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III."

Hiccup froze before hesitantly turning round. In front of him stood a man who was taller than him, and way more muscular. Hiccup was pretty sure not even Snotlout was that beefy. The man wore a red and golden armor. He was bald and his face sported two tattoos: blue triangles, one on each cheek. He was obviously the leader of those soldiers, and his mouth was twisted into a sadistic leer.

"I have to say I'm slightly disappointed. I was expecting someone…mightier."

Hiccup felt rage curl inside him. Without giving it a second thought, he leapt forward and tried to hit the man but ended up receiving a powerful punch into his face and fell backwards, feeling blood leaking from his mouth and hating the taste of it.

"Tss, tss, tss. There's no need to get violent, _dragon tamer_."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DRAGON?"

"You mean you don't know?" The Commander laughed uproariously. "You, the one Viking who single-handedly tamed a bloody wild Night Fury, do not know what is happening to that pet of yours?"

"HE'S NOT A PET! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?"

The Commander snickered. "Please tell me you know that dragons hate eels."

Hiccup blinked. "What are you saying?"

"Ah, so you _do_ know about that. And you've never actually wondered why? Judging by the look on your face, you obviously haven't. Oh, it is such a pity. Otherwise you probably would have discovered that eel's blood is poisonous for them."

There was a moment of silence before Hiccup could speak again, the lump in his throat having made it difficult.

"What's going to happen to him?" he whispered, already terrified by the answer that would come.

"Have a guess, genius."

Hiccup looked down at his best friend. This was impossible. He could not lose him. He couldn't. Not after everything they had been through.

"So, here's the deal, dragon tamer. Come with me and I'll spare the miserable lives of your friends, dragon excluded."

"Don't listen to him, Hiccup!" Astrid cried urgently, still pinned down to the ground.

"If I were you, it is _her _I wouldn't listen to."

Hiccup was silent for a couple of seconds before he raised his head up and frowned. Pumping his chest in defiance, he glared at the Commander.

"I'm _never_ coming with you. I'd rather die this instant!"

"And here I thought you would come to your senses." The Commander snapped his fingers, and Tagor came over with a prisoner. Hiccup felt a second wave of horror wash over him; he couldn't do anything but look as his grandfather was brutally brought in front of him. Grandfather and grandson stared at each other, none of them daring to utter a single word. Time slowed painfully when the Commander unsheathed his sword and pointed its tip into Old Wrinkly's back. The old man didn't flinch. He was a Viking. But Hiccup refused to stand there and do nothing.

"No! Please don't do that!"

"Oh? Well, begin by showing some respect, young man. Kneel before me and I might grant you your request."

Hiccup hated himself for obeying, but what other choice did he have? The Commander snorted, looking him up and down as if he were something disgusting. And before Hiccup could comprehend what was happening, the Commander cold-heartedly stabbed Old Wrinkly. The old man himself didn't utter a single sound, and did not seem to understand why there was a blade protruding from his chest, or why blood was slowly pooling over his grey shirt. He did not even hear the desperate cry that left his grandson's mouth. He only realized his time had come sooner than he had thought, and slowly, ever so gracefully collapsed on the ground with a low thud.

Hiccup didn't bother to hide the tears that now rolled freely down his cheeks and rushed to his grandfather's side and pulled the old man into his lap with trembling hands. Old Wrinkly's breathing was hoarse and labored, for his lungs desperately tried to breathe in some air, and breathe it out, but it had never hurt so much. Sweat glistened on his wrinkled forehead, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open. He was a Viking. He would fight until the very end. He felt hands that were younger than his own crawl around his old shoulders and knew they belonged to his daughter's son. Hiccup. The one person he had loved more than anyone else since the death of his wife and his daughter. Old Wrinkly could feel himself fall into eternal unconsciousness, and had it not been for the pain in his chest and his grandson's hands that were moist with his own blood, he would have welcomed it happily.

"Hiccup…"

The young man's voice was strangled as he willed his grandfather to stay quiet, not to waste the strength he had left by talking. But the healer would not listen to him. Forcing his eyes open and blinking restlessly in a desperate attempt to stay literally awake, Old Wrinkly gazed at the crying face of Hiccup above him and felt his heart break. It was so unfair. The boy had just been given the blessing to marry Astrid, and he now had to watch him die on the same day. The old, wise man knew that Hiccup would never forgive himself and silently wished he could make him change his mind. So, he reached up and wiped a tear away from his grandson's cheek, forcing a hurtful smile on his face.

"Hiccup…This…isn't your fault."

"Of course it is! I- I didn't even protect you…Grandpa…Please forgive me! Please forgive me… "

"Shhh, Hiccup. Listen…to me. I once told you that, someday, you would show them all… how wrong they were about you. Do you… remember?"

Hiccup could only nod as fresh tears kept escaping his eyes.

"Well…you did. I've always told you…that your old Grandpa is…always…right. So, I'm right when I say that…this isn't your fault."

Hiccup laughed and sobbed weakly at the same time. He watched his grandfather's eyelids close again, and he felt panic clutch at his heart.

"Grandpa!"

But the healer was not done yet, for he knew his grandson needed him one last time.

"Hiccup…I am so proud of you, son. I can see you, dragon rider. You will become a….great leader…someday. Whatever happens next…son…do not let it darken your wonderful heart. Revenge and hatred will destroy you. Remember, Hiccup: the greatest leaders only fight for the dignity….of the weak. Whatever the case, always…remember…"

"That is all very touching, but I don't have all day." The Commander said as two of his soldiers yanked Hiccup away from his grandfather, whose body fell onto the ground again due the lack of support. Hiccup struggled like one possessed, screaming at the top of his lungs whilst he was brought in front of the Commander.

"GRANDPA! GRANDPA! LET ME GO! LET ME GO TO HIM!"

"Are you sure that is what you want?"

"LET ME GO TO HIM, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

The massive man looked at the young Viking with a smirk.

'Then, go."

In one single swift movement, the Commander tore the Viking's prosthesis away from what was left of his leg. Hiccup cried out in pain, swearing to the Gods he could see black spots dance in front of his eyes, and clung to consciousness as the soldiers released their grip on him. With nothing to balance his weight on, he could only crash into the mud, left to wallow in his crippled condition while the men around him burst into laughter.

Astrid had thought she knew what rage felt like. But at that instant she knew she was wrong. She was seething with something that surpassed rage, watching the fabulous young man who was to be her spouse trying to crawl towards the dying body of his grandfather and the soldiers around them preventing him from reaching Old Wrinkly and kicking shamelessly into his leg. Astrid did not even notice she was crying, too. She only saw the way the Commander – that lowlife piece of shit- was humiliating the man she loved, and she wanted to make that executioner die a thousand excruciating painful deaths for it. The Vikings of Berk were tough, always fierce in battle, but they _never _humiliated their enemies like that. This was the most heartbreaking scene she had ever witnessed, and she could not do anything about it but watch helplessly. Her watery eyes suddenly widened in further horror when she felt the man above her rip her shirt open and heard him state that he was going to enjoy having his way with her. She struggled with all her might. In vain. Just like Toothless had. She risked glancing at the dragon and was appalled to see how pale his body was. The man above her was now trying to unbuckle her heavy spiked skirt when, suddenly…

"NO! LEAVE HER ALONE! PLEASE, LEAVE HER ALONE! I'LL COME WITH YOU, I PROMISE, BUT LEAVE HER ALONE!"

Time froze. The Commander smirked in victory, and immediately ordered the man who was pinning her down to get up after making sure she would not be able to follow them. Angry that his plans for the blonde Viking beneath his legs had just been ruined, the soldier unsheathed a dagger and stuck it between her ribs.

Hands and feet tied up, Astrid roared at the Commander, telling him to mark her words: sooner or later, she was going to make him pay for all of this. He waved a dismissive hand at her in return, not caring one bit about her threats, and she watched as they disappeared into the rain and into the forest, taking the one man she had ever loved away from her. Her eyelids became heavier by the second and blood pooled under her body.

The storm was now unleashing its full strength, thunder echoed in her ears, and she could only glimpse the respective, motionless bodies of Toothless and Old Wrinkly lying ahead of her. The last thing she remembered seeing before everything went black was Hiccup's abandoned prosthetic leg, the metal glazing dimly with rain water.

And then, nothing.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Author's note: And here's chapter 3. I'm telling you, this was one heck of a translation. I'm never writing a storm scene ever again. At least, not before a long time. Lol. Anyway, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Calico, who has supported me since the beginning and keeps doing it whilst writing her own awesome stories. Thank you so much! And without further ado, enjoy your reading! **

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Hiccup had suspected it before, but he was now pretty sure of it: the Gods loved irony. They had to, otherwise they wouldn't have allowed him to feel such heavenly joy when Arvarodd Hofferson had agreed to give him his daughter's hand, and then such horror and pain almost immediately afterwards. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore.

The Commander and his men had tied him up to the mast of the longship they had come to Berk on. Hiccup had absent-mindedly noticed how sturdy the vessel was, made to endure the ocean's wrath if necessary. He had also briefly wondered why there was a spear –long, seemingly well-balanced and rather beautiful to look at- tied up to the mast as well, and had dropped the matter almost instantly. He did not care. The usual spark in his eyes was gone, and he could only stare at his hands whilst the ship rocked away from everything he loved. His hands, tainted with his grandfather's blood. Hiccup kept alternating between heaving, cringing and staring out at the horizon, his features drained from all feelings but exhaustion, pain and indescribable sadness and self-loathing. Looking over his shoulder, he felt his heart sink further down into his chest: Berk's shores were no longer visible. He swallowed thickly, feeling his skin turn paler than it already was.

Old Wrinkly. Probably dead by now, his lifeless body getting colder and colder. The rain would accelerate the process. Toothless. Poisoned and possibly dying. Why hadn't he wondered why dragons hated eels before? Maybe he and the others would have found an antidote. Astrid. Tied up and seriously wounded. She would die soon, Hiccup knew, most probably of blood loss, if nobody found her. But who would find her? Dragons and Vikings remained indoors during a storm, given that they were not at sea. Attacking a dragon or any other enemy was one thing. Braving a storm and the unleashed forces of Nature was another entirely.

The Commander kept barking orders to his men, urging them to row faster, his voice barely audible over the screaming winds. It was no wonder; no matter how sturdy a ship was, nobody liked to tread in treacherous waters, not even the Commander. Hiccup had seen the signs, seen the way the sea was slowly but surely awakening from its seemingly peaceful slumber, but had not said anything. Why should he help those who had destroyed him in a matter of minutes? In order to save his life, in case they had to endure a storm? No. Not even his life mattered now.

And so, soon enough, whilst the wind lashed at his hair and he fought to ignore the searing pain that was shooting through his left leg, blood slowly leaking from the re-opened wound, Hiccup observed with a morbid satisfaction the ever-growing waves that began to take their merciless toll on the longship.

The Commander stumbled his way towards the helm, rain and sleet whipping him in the face. He held onto his sword with one hand and kept his balance with the other. The boat rocked violently over the wild waves, sea water slapping the side of the ship and rising so that it pelted down onto the deck. The storm was in full swing, and the ship was slowly and roughly making its way to the eye of it, where it was calm and collected.

The wind tore at Hiccup's clothes, his hair, and his face. His eyes watered and he had to squint against the sleet. He realized that his hair was sticking to the side of his face. Bits of it whipped his neck and features every time the wind blew it that way. He was constantly spitting it out of his mouth. Briefly, Hiccup wondered how atrocious that would be for a girl like Astrid, and thought that maybe Viking girls and women had good reasons for keeping their hair tied in tight braids, traditions put aside. Hiccup choked painfully, realizing he had let his thoughts drift to Astrid once again, and it had made yet another wave of nausea well up inside him.

Astrid. Toothless. What was going to happen to them?

Thunder clapped overhead and lightning struck somewhere too close for comfort. Some of the men screamed, forgetting that they were supposed to remain stoic. The Commander roared in rage, threatening to throw them overboard if they didn't stop acting like sissies. Hiccup let a hollow smirk come across his now chapped lips. The storm was intensifying, turning itself into what resembled a hurricane, and he knew the Commander was realizing the danger he had put himself into. The vessel, as sturdy as it was, wasn't going to bear much more. No one could defeat the sea with a sword.

They heard nothing, but the rage of the squall, the bright arch of sea foam, the white flash of sea-birds as they screamed and spiraled higher upon the wind. The longship fought the wave and the storm lash.

It was a miserable, aching wait as the vessel groaned in time to the Commander's grunts, and fought both the ill-tide and the wind's direction. The sail was slack, fluttering briefly but still limp and the mast trembled. Hiccup thought the Gods above wept over the ocean, as the ship hissed in tremendous battle, and the bow plunged deeper into the rising waves.

And, then, the sky fell. The erratic tilt of the ship's deck, the fierce fight to keep it afloat, the searing, drenching walls of water were disorienting.

The sky and the sea had both turned to glass, then grey, and there was so much water falling around them all, it was as if they were reversed. The rain was naught but a hymn of wet, and mystery and grief to come, and the silver sea that churned beneath the bow seemed to cradle the longship to sleep. And the vessel answered, its hull rising knife-like over the water, only to be plunged ever closer to the depths.

And the hurricane roared on. It was only in looking back at the terrible events that had happened, that Hiccup could honestly swear, by the Gods, that it was possible for such a storm to erupt so fiercely. He watched as the black clouds kept gathering, swelling to bursting, and he smelled that eerie stench of rain over water. The clouds, bloated with the weight of the fury, spewed forth the deluge from the sky, as the ocean roared back with its own writhing currents. Water and sky were embroiled in battle, the sky pouring down, and the water rising upward and the longship was caught between the warring elements.

The ship pitched violently in the waves as they grew teeth, rose higher over the stern, threatening to devour the battered ship. The water was lifting them ten meters into the air and dropping them just as far. Several men had already fallen overboard from the slippery deck that was drenched in the tumultuous downpour. Suddenly, the ship lurched, and the Commander was forced let go of the helm, his massive body slamming against the ship's port rail. Large planks were torn off the boat by an enormous wave that engulfed everyone on board for a couple of seconds that seemed to last for hours, and whatever words were cried out remained lost in the furious roar of the storm that threatened to swallow them at any moment in a chaos of churning waters.

Hiccup coughed, trying to spit out all the salt water that had made its way down his throat, and suddenly realized lightning had struck the longship, breaking it in two. They were sinking into oblivion. Fast. The men around him emitted screams of terror while he desperately searched for a way to cut the ropes that denied him the tiniest chance of survival, if such a chance still existed, and saw none when, suddenly, a man violently crashed into him, propelled by another wave.

In the darkness of the storm, Hiccup could only vaguely recognize Tagor, the Commander's right-hand man. Lifting himself up from the young Viking, Tagor met his gaze, and their eyes locked for a couple of seconds. The soldier risked a glance towards the Commander, who was struggling to get to his feet again on the slippery, broken deck, hurling what he guessed were hateful words to the angry skies. Hiccup would never know what exactly went through Tagor's mind, but without uttering a single word for he knew he would not be heard anyway, the soldier unsheathed his dagger, cut the ropes and set him free. The spear that had been tied to the mast fell on the deck and Tagor immediately bent to retrieve it before it was lost to the ocean. Shoving the spear into Hiccup's arms with a pleading look, he put his hands on the young Viking's shoulders and before either of them could comprehend what was happening, an enormous wave washed over them, tossing their bodies off the ship and they were both suddenly consumed by the silent hunger of water as the wave dribbled back to the sea. They did not even have time to scream.

Hiccup was falling down. He knew he had landed on something hard and wet, and then everything had gone slower. He was falling deeper and deeper, but peacefully. Everything sounded far away and distorted. He opened his eyes and received a stinging sensation that burned his retinas. He knew that he was definitely not on the boat anymore and, looking around, saw no trace of Tagor. Remembering that he had to breathe, he tried to swim –still holding the spear Tagor had given him- but was unable to do so as he felt something restraining him and dragging him lower into the depths of the ocean. Looking above his shoulder, he saw his fur vest had stuck itself into a plank and, after a brief yet thorough struggle, managed to set himself free. That was when he felt his lungs begin to burn.

Panicking, he kicked himself upwards, finding it incredibly difficult due to the absence of one foot but actually relieved that his prosthetic leg wasn't there to drag him down, and he eventually broke the surface, gasping. He screamed, unable to control himself and mechanically waving the spear in an attempt to be seen, although he knew it was useless. The longship was sinking. Most of the men who had been on board had already left Midgard. He only hoped the Commander was among those.

A large wave mercilessly pushed Hiccup back down, and sea water flooded his lungs. He gasped, coughed, wheezed, and struggled for breath. He battled his way back up to where the air was, but something had fallen into the water above him and caused such impact that he found himself spinning, tumbling, and somersaulting through the water as if he was being sucked into an imaginary vortex. He was catapulted downwards. He couldn't breathe. Needed air. But he no longer knew which way was up. He swam, thrashing out wildly. Water was all around him, leaving him with no way to go. His clothes and the spear weighed him down, down, down. And suddenly his mind registered it. Down! That was it! He would have to go opposite the way he was going! He kicked in that direction. But his breath was already next to out and he began to suck in water. He couldn't breathe, and he remembered Astrid and Toothless who were probably dying if they were not dead already, and he wanted to be with them, and he was so tired…

He stopped fighting, knowing it was hopeless, that the ocean had won, and just held still, floating, breathing in the water. He was going to die very, very soon. He could see death. He reached for it. It was a dark figure, approaching him fast like a fish. A big one. Wait. Big ones. Swirling around him. Could Death multiply itself into several shapes at the same time? Something smooth brushed his body and then touched either side of his face, and then his arms, and then between his legs, and then he was riding towards Hel's kingdom…

And just when he thought blackness was going to overtake him completely, he felt himself burst through the surface of the churning waters and suddenly fresh air entered his lungs and he gorged himself on him like a newborn baby. Hiccup felt dizzy, did not understand what was going on, let alone why he was extraordinarily gliding above the water, playing with the waves that danced angrily around him.

He looked down.

And felt his eyes widen as his lips curved in an incredulous grin.

Dolphins.

He was surrounded by an entire pod of a dozen white-beaked dolphins, and for a reason he simply couldn't fathom, he understood they had herded him and prevented him from drowning. They jumped high above the water, performing loops and clicking in obvious pleasure, as if the storm was nothing but their favorite playground. One of them was holding the spear he had unknowingly dropped between its jaws, and sped alongside the one that carried him on its back. All of them alternatively turned tight circles on him, slapping the water with their tails.

Hiccup shook his head in wonder, feeling like he was a little boy again. He had heard the tales about fishermen who had been rescued by dolphins, the keepers of the sea, and how those animals instinctively helped those who were helpless. And here he was, perched on the back of the leader of the pod, cleaving through the cold waters and heading for wherever they were taking him to. For the first time since he had left Berk, Hiccup burst into genuine laughter, forgetting for a moment about how dead-tired he was and how painful his leg felt. He crouched over the dolphin he was sitting on, clutching onto its dorsal fin and patting its smooth, coarse skin gently and whispering encouragements and thanks.

However, the time came when his body could not function on will alone, and sleep overcame him quickly, responding to the urgent demands of every aching muscle. He had no idea where he was heading for, but he thought that maybe, maybe the Gods did not hate him after all.

When he woke up again, it was to the sound of his new friends clicking enthusiastically. He was still soaking wet and felt atrociously cold, not to mention his leg was killing him and he feared the wound was infected, but as soon as he opened his eyes, could not believe what he was seeing. Land. The dolphins had brought him to the shore, or at least as close to the shore as they could get without putting themselves in danger. They swam around him, nudging him gently and he felt like he could cry at seeing such benevolence.

Dismounting carefully, Hiccup slid into the water, shivering from head to toes.

The mammals clicked in joy, as if happy that he had managed to do so, and he reached to touch the snout of the one dolphin that had carried him on its back ever since the longship had sunk. The dolphin leaned into his palm, and Hiccup smiled softly as he remembered that same gesture happening with a certain Night Fury.

"Thank you. I would have died without you. I will never forget what you did for me."

Some of the dolphins executed somersaults upon hearing his words, and Hiccup wondered if they could understand him. He knew that the idea that was brewing in his mind was crazy, but crazy ideas tended to work surprisingly well with him. So, the Viking slowly removed the Ring of Heavens pendant he had been given by Astrid, took a moment to brush his fingers against the smooth, golden surface and the emerald that rested in its centre, before giving it to the dolphin before him.

"I don't know if you guys can understand me, but…I owe you my life, so I'm going to take the risk. I don't know where I am. And if there's a chance Astrid and Toothless can make it," he whispered as the implied contrary made a lump form in his throat, "they will need to know I am still alive myself. Bring this pendant back to Berk, please. And the spear, too. There must be a reason Tagor wanted me to have it, and Astrid will take better care of it than I would."

The dolphin opened its jaws as if it was smiling, and carefully bit onto the lace of the pendant so to not let it go. Hiccup laughed as they all swam up to him, brushing against him and clicking, and he watched as the pod swam away from him, heading for a new destination he hoped would be Berk. But there was no way he could be sure of that. And if Astrid was still alive, she would kill him if she found out he had given the birthday gift she had bought for him to a dolphin.

His leg ached, and he instinctively knew his body was still exhausted from the day and night before. He turned round, and swam slowly until his foot touched the sand. Tripping endlessly, he finally succeeded in reaching the shore. Trembling and, he knew, possibly feverish, he let himself collapse on the beach, feeling as tiny waves gently licked at his legs and sand touched his skin through his torn clothes. His vision was blurred, and he was falling back into unconsciousness when he thought he could hear a child cry something out in the distance. Trying to focus on the noise, he vaguely made out the shape of who he supposed was a redhead boy bending over him in concern. And then another voice, more high-pitched than the first one, made itself heard, but Hiccup could not quite distinguish it. His head was hurting too much.

"Nolan! Come back here immediately!"

"But Mom! There's a man over here!"

"What?"

"There's a man over here," the child said again, trying to make himself heard by his mother, "and he's wounded!"

Everything was slowly turning black again, but Hiccup could have sworn he felt two pairs of hands, soft and gentle, trying to lift him up in the gentlest way possible.

"Those who the sea chooses to spare are blessed. Help me, Nolan. We're going to bring him home."

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**Footnote: I did a little bit of research in order to see what kind of dolphins could be found in the cold waters of the North Sea, and it appears white-beaked dolphins (_Lagenorhynchus albirostris_) are the most numerous. **

**The White-beaked Dolphin is one of the larger dolphins (1.1-1.2m at birth growing to around 2.5-2.7 metres at adulthood). The dolphin is characterized by its short thick creamy-white beak and very falcate (curved) dorsal fin. **

**White-beaked Dolphins are acrobatic and social animals. They will frequently ride on the bow wave of high-speed boats and jump clear of the sea's surface. **

**The White-beaked Dolphin is also a social feeder and has frequently been observed feeding with Orca, Fin, and Humpback Whales, as well as other dolphin species.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's note: PHEW! That. Was. LONG! =D What can I say about this? Hmmm...Ah, yes. There is a direct reference to _Footprints_ in here, just so you know. And I have to tell you that I wrote all of this while listening non-stop to the second track of the OST of one of my all-time favorite movies, namely The Princess Bride. Boy, is that movie awesome! XD Anyway, the track is entitled 'I Will Never Love Again'. I'm sure you will notice why I am telling you this. And I warmly recommend to read this chapter while listening to that awesome piece of music by Mark Knopfler. I'm even ready to send the track by e-mail to whoever's interested in it. ;-)**

**Also, because I have written exams to take next week, do not expect another chapter before -at least- the 25th of November. And wish me luck!**

**And I dedicate this chapter to Contraltissimo. :-) 3 3 3**

**Enjoy your reading!**

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**Arvarodd the Bold watched both expectantly and patiently his daughter's eyes as they slowly began to roll behind their eyelids, seeking light. He released the breath he did not know he had been holding. Astrid was finally awakening and she was alright, safe for the fairly impressive scar that would, from now on, marry her ribcage.

Arvarodd sighed. For the life of him, he could not remember the last time he had been so scared. Probably never. But when the Thorston twins had brought home his daughter's motionless body in the early evening a week ago, he had instantly understood what Stoick had gone through right after the battle against the Green Death. The exact moment he had thought the unthinkable had been the most terrifying of his existence. Svanhilde had gone hysterical, and Arvarodd had had to yank Astrid's body from the twins' arms and had rushed off in the storm to carry her to the healer's place, hoping Old Wrinkly would be there to take care of his only child and swearing to the Gods to track down the bastard who had done this to his wonderful daughter and make him suffer a torturously slow and painful death.

But when he had reached his destination, Astrid's blood staining his own shirt, he had watched in sinister comprehending the body Fishlegs Ingerman was slowly and respectfully lifting up his Gronckle's back with trembling hands. Ever since Fishlegs had decided to become a healer, Old Wrinkly had taken him as his apprentice with open arms, and it was no secret that the bond between mentor and apprentice was something special, similar to the one Gobber the Belch and Hiccup shared. Fishlegs had looked like he was on the verge of silent tears when he had brought the corpse inside. Dragons had been roaring everywhere in the village until the sound had reverberated so loud through Berk that there was no Viking on the island who could pretend he had not heard it. In a matter of minutes, Arvarodd had been surrounded by the other healers, and they had eventually succeeded in taking Astrid away from him after Gobber had forced him to let her go, ordering him to calm down and go chop some wood if the pressure was to become too much to bear. Stoick and Spitelout had been busy listening to what Snotlout could tell them – Spitelout had even had to intervene when the chief had started to grab Snotlout's shoulders and shake him like a pine tree, firing question after question about where Hiccup was- and organizing a rescue party with the riders of the top four mightiest Monstrous Nightmares in order to bring the Night Fury who had been left at the lowland back to the village.

Thanks to some previous incidents that had happened in the last four years, Hiccup had been clear-sighted enough to invent and build several items one could use whenever a dragon was injured and needed to be taken care of rapidly. The dragon-sized litter was one of those. It took four Nightmares or Nadders to lift it, one at each corner, but it definitely enabled their injured peer to be transported much faster. When Snotlout and the others had come back with a hardly-breathing Toothless, even Stoick had not been able to prevent a gasp from escaping his mouth. The Night Fury's scales had turned into a brilliant white, the unchanged dark wings and tailfin being the only proof that their normal color was black.

Arvarodd sighed again, closing his tired eyes for a second and running a hand through his long blonde beard. He and his wife had taken shifts to watch over their daughter and, when they could, try to comfort Astrid's distressed Deadly Nadder, Starkad, who was stubbornly refusing to eat anything and lay beside the house, whining pitifully each and every time she heard her rider groan in pain.

There was still no sign of Hiccup, Arvarodd knew, and he sincerely sympathized with Stoick because of that. Everyone could see how much on edge the chief was, trying in spite of everything to keep things straight in the village and not to give in to the ever-growing panic that any father would feel swelling in his heart in the same situation. Stoick had come several times to check on Astrid himself, even when he had had no news to share about his own child. Search parties were still being sent, but there was not much hope left. Not after a whole week had gone by.

"…Dad?"

Arvarodd's deep blue eyes shot open, all previous thoughts shattering instantly as the unusually weak voice – that voice he cherished so much- reached his ears and he looked down, his irises instinctively finding Astrid's. He hesitated for a millisecond, and then rushed forward to take her into his fatherly arms, murmuring her name over and over again like it was the holiest sound in Midgard. He had never really been the protective type, for Astrid had never seemed like she needed or wanted him to be like that, but this was different. He had nearly lost her, his own flesh and blood. He would never forget how pale her skin had been a week ago.

"Dad, stop it! You're…crushing…me."

He complied, releasing his hold on her, and taking a moment to observe her. The healers had removed her clothes, had done what they had to do after extracting the dagger from her flesh, and had eventually slipped a white nightgown onto her womanly body. With her long hair that had been let loose framing her face and caressing her shoulders, Arvarodd thought she looked beautiful. She tried to lift herself up from the bed, and ended up groaning in pain, gritting her teeth as her right hand dashed to the injured area. She renounced and lay again. Arvarodd took silent pride in her: she was still physically weak and yet she was already trying to hide it.

"Take it easy, Astrid. You need to rest."

"I've rested enough to last for several weeks. How long have I been out?"

He suddenly realized Astrid was staring at him quizzically, a frown forming on her face, and he sighed once more. She had obviously not forgotten about whatever had happened in the lowland and she would want to know the truth, nothing but the truth, and he would have to tell her. This was not going to be easy. At least he would hear her own tale, and maybe he would finally get some information to share with Stoick.

"A week. It's Ruffnut and Tuffnut who found you in the lowland. From what I've heard, Ruffnut found it odd that you hadn't returned to the village after the storm begun. She rounded up your other friends and they set out to look for you and Hiccup."

Upon hearing the name of her husband-to-be, Astrid tried to shoot up once more, and actually succeeded in doing so. She grabbed her father's hand, trying to convey the urgency of the situation in her grip.

"Dad! They took him! We've got to go after them! We've got to save Hiccup!"

"Astrid, calm down! And who's they? No one here knows what actually happened but you, and you were not exactly talkative the last couple of days."

Astrid's eyes widened as she understood the full extent of her father's words.

"What about Old Wrinkly?"

"He didn't make it," Arvarodd simply stated whilst shaking his head. "There was nothing we could do."

"…Toothless?"

"Not dead yet, but still in a pretty bad shape. The healers don't know what's wrong with him, meaning they can't do much to help him."

"He's been poisoned with eels' blood!"

"Eels' blood?"

"Yes! I've got to see the healers and tell them!" Astrid announced, getting rid of the several layers of fur that had protected her from getting cold and ready to get up when Arvarodd firmly grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her back down, resolutely shaking his head.

"_You_ are _not_ going _anywhere_ until you've told me everything that's happened."

"But-

"No. Stoick is worried sick about Hiccup, and he doesn't have the tiniest piece of information about him. You owe your chieftain that much, Astrid. Start talking."

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"…And then I blacked out. That's all I can remember."

Arvarodd nodded once, the frown on his face a clear sign that he was going to report all of this to Stoick as soon as he stepped outside.

"Dad, has Stoick sent search parties for Hiccup?"

"Of course. In every direction. But wherever those men took Hiccup to, they must have been caught up in the storm, which means that they are either exceptional sailors or complete numbskulls. Not all the search parties have come back yet."

Astrid looked down. She knew her father, and understood that he meant most search parties had returned without the slightest clue. She would never forget how Hiccup had looked like when he had been reduced to crawling into the mud. He had been hurt deeper than she could imagine. All the work she and the others had done to make Hiccup feel like his missing foot wasn't something he should be ashamed of, all the hopping races they had done to make him feel better about himself and strengthen his leg, all the work Hiccup himself had done while training with her to be capable to rise above the problem of his handicap, all the crosses Hiccup had scratched with her on the walls of his bedroom, all of it for nothing. It had all vanished in that single moment when that asshole had torn Hiccup's prosthesis off from his leg.

A series of knocks against the door interrupted her thoughts and her gaze followed her father as he strode along to open it, revealing a rather uncomfortable-looking Snotlout standing on the threshold, nervously shifting his weight on one leg after the other.

"Snotlout! I'm glad to see that you're back," Arvarodd greeted Spitelout's son with a friendly punch on the shoulder. "Did you find anything?"

Snotlout swallowed thickly, not sure of how he should bring this up. "As a matter of fact, I did, Sir. Is Astrid awake?"

"Oh, yes. Well come in, lad, we're all waiting to hear what news you can give us."

Snotlout complied silently, carrying some sort of bundle in his beefy arms. As soon as Astrid set her eyes on him, she knew whatever he had to tell her was not good. She did not avert her eyes when he stared at her in that particular way that spoke volumes about how he thought she looked, and waited for him to talk. He glanced down once.

"Hey, Astrid. Nice to see that you're back with the living. Not that I ever doubted it, you know. I mean, the guy's who's going to kill you isn't probably born yet, right? And-

"Get to the point, 'Lout. What news do you have?"

"I-Uh…Blaze and I were flying above the sea, looking for anything that could lead us to Hiccup. And, well, we found _this_." He handed her over the bundle he had brought with him, and Astrid recognized it instantly. It was Hiccup's fur vest. Banishing the tears that threatened to moist her eyes away and clasping the vest to her chest, Astrid looked back at Snotlout, who merely shrugged. "It was stuck on a plank. I guess Blaze picked up Hiccup's scent, which might explain why she was able to spot this. Anyway, there were pieces of wood floating everywhere. I'm sorry, Astrid. I really am."

Arvarodd looked sadly at his daughter as she tried to take it all in. If Snotlout was telling the truth –and there was no reason why this shouldn't be the case- then sending more search parties for Hiccup and his abductors was a lost cause. For even if, by some incredible chance, Hiccup had survived the shipwreck itself, his body wouldn't have been able to bear the freezing cold waters of the sea for that long, let alone in his crippled state. Arvarodd shook his head. How could the Gods allow his daughter to be a widow before she even got married?

"Please. Leave me alone," Astrid whispered, her voice cracking.

Both Arvarodd and Snotlout looked at her, then at each other, not budging an inch. This seemed to infuriate Astrid further as she glared venomously at both men, her voice rising significantly in volume.

"**I said leave me alone!**"

They exited the house, but not before Arvarodd told her that the pyre for Old Wrinkly would be set on fire at sunset and that Stoick would probably appreciate it if she could be there. Astrid simply nodded. And it was only when she was sure that nobody could either see or hear her that she allowed herself to give in to the chaos of tears and sobs that had been welling up inside her. And if any Viking on Berk actually did hear her, no one was stupid enough to mention it.

* * *

Astrid knew she was being watched by everyone when she stood next to the lifeless body of Old Wrinkly and gently put Hiccup's fur vest on the old chest that had stopped rising with each breath. She thought Hiccup would have wanted her to do this. The fur vest could not be compared to the much finer clothes the corpse had been wrapped in, let alone to the different items that would accompany Old Wrinkly during his last travel, but it was more symbolic that any of them.

She looked down. Old Wrinkly was smiling softly, even in his death. He had died smiling to his grandson to comfort him, to make sure Hiccup would understand that he wasn't to blame for what had happened. The old man looked peaceful, serene, and his face had a sense of tranquility she was almost jealous of. Astrid cupped Old Wrinkly's cheek, biding him farewell and praying for his journey to Valhalla or Hel's realm to be a safe one. She hoped it would be Valhalla. The man did not deserve to spend his afterlife wandering aimlessly through the mists of Helheim, having to endure the freezing cold air Hraesvelg created by flapping his wings. After all, Old Wrinkly _had _died in battle, even though he had not exactly killed his foes. Astrid hoped the Gods would have mercy for the Old Wrinkly's kindred soul. She was not that worried for Hiccup's, though. Even if he had died in a shipwreck, he was a hero. He would make it to Odin's Hall. She murmured another prayer for Hiccup, her Hiccup, feeling the last tear she had to shed leave its shelter of skin, and for she thought would be the last time in her life, she did nothing to stop it.

She stepped back eventually, squaring her shoulders with dignity, behaving like a true Viking. But deep inside her, she felt so cold. Stoick, Gobber and Spitelout silently went past her and stepped into the water, pushing the longboat at sea with all their might. The chief looked older than he ever had. The ship rocked gently, the wood creaking from time to time, the sail swelling beautifully thanks to the soft evening breeze and pushing the longship into the horizon where the sun was slowly going to sleep.

When the vessel had sailed far enough from the beach, the archers bent their bows after having set their arrows on fire. Stoick gave them the signal, and suddenly the twilight was lit with countless spots of bright flames similar to shooting stars, and they drew a perfect arc of a circle before sticking in their single target.

It was strange, Astrid thought, how oddly beautiful a pyre could look like when reflected in the water. The sky and the sea both crammed with vibrant colors, outdoing themselves to honor the passing of two great souls. Most Vikings began to make their way back to the village, but she was not one of those. She would stand there and watch the ship burn until the last ashes would scatter across the sky, performing their last dance.

The night had fallen for a long time already when the last flame was extinguished by the quite sea, but Astrid kept staring at that precise spot anyway, unwilling to pay attention to anything else. She perfectly knew Ruffnut was coming up to her. She could hear her coming, and she had long ago learned to recognize her friend's footsteps.

Ruffnut and the others had all mourned the loss of Old Wrinkly, and even more that of Hiccup. Even Snotlout had looked completely down. When Spitelout had reminded him that he was consequently next in line to become chief and should start acting like it, Snotlout had only muttered that he wasn't interested anymore. Not that he had a choice, but it proved just how much more than two lives had been lost. Hiccup had turned out to represent Berk's light and hope. With him gone, the village had lost its future.

"So…How are you feeling?" was the admittedly stupid question Ruffnut asked, and Astrid thought her friend looked a bit like she herself must have looked that fateful day on the cliff, that day when she had understood Hiccup, although having been disowned and banished, was the key to a new age and had forced him to realize he had to go after his father to save Toothless and the entire tribe in the process.

"Do I need to answer that?" Astrid replied, and she was shocked to hear how harsh and cold her voice sounded. Ruffnut simply shrugged it off.

"Not really. I was just trying to make you say something. You've been standing here for _hours_, so I came to see if you had turned into a damn statue already or not."

Astrid grunted once as a response, and resumed her staring at the horizon and, without uttering a single word, Ruffnut imitated her. How long they stayed like this, they did not know and didn't care to know. After what felt like an eternity, Ruffnut suddenly pointed a somewhat excited forefinger to indicate the pod of dolphins that had appeared in the distance.

"Look! They've been here for several days already. I dunno what they're doing here."

The mammals were jumping happily above the water and diving back into it under the light of the moon and the stars. Astrid stared at them for a moment, and then simply turned her back on the sea.

"Astrid?" Ruffnut called, putting a hand on her childhood friend's shoulder to hold her back. Astrid glared at her, and in that single glare Ruffnut saw someone she had not seen for four years. Someone cold and harsh like the blade of a sword. Just as there was a 'before the battle against the Green Death' and 'after the battle against the Green Death' Berk, there was a 'before Hiccup' and 'after Hiccup' Astrid. And the 'before Hiccup' one had just resurfaced.

"I will never love again."

And with that, Astrid made her way back to the village, preparing herself to spend the night alone, more alone than ever.

* * *

All the dragons in the village kept whining, as if they knew what had happened and what fate awaited the Night Fury. Starkad had been somewhat happier than the others ever since she had seen Astrid coming out of her house the day before. But the atmosphere in Berk was still heavy, filled with grief and anger.

Astrid had just paid a visit to Toothless, who was still being taken care of by the healers, and especially by Fishlegs who had spent the night trying to find any information possible about how to deal with all kinds of poisons. Astrid was out of tears, but she had felt her heart tighten upon seeing the Night Fury. And vice-versa. It seemed Toothless had, upon seeing her and feeling her sympathizing fingers scratch him, somehow figured out that Hiccup wasn't there anymore, that he would never be there again, and although she tried to lift the dragon's spirits in every way she could think of, Astrid knew he was letting himself die.

It was only when she heard a series of powerful roars echoing outside that Astrid decided to go and see what was happening. Vikings ran past her, giving her looks that were full of pity, and she hated them for it. But she did not allow herself to dwell on the thought for very long, for she could hear the fishermen cry out incomprehensible things from the docks. A crowd had gathered there, she noticed, to observe whatever was attracting their attention.

Almost in spite of herself, Astrid elbowed whoever stood in her path to cut herself a way through the bulky Vikings and what she saw when she finally managed to stand at the front of the crowd struck her speechless. A pod of dolphins – and, call it feminine intuition, she was pretty sure it was the same pod Ruff had pointed to the evening before – was swimming rapidly back and forth in the harbor, trying to prevent the fishermen from setting sail. The children of the village emitted cries of pure delight; they had never seen dolphins from this close, and soon they were cheering for the mammals, applauding happily whenever one of them performed a perfect somersault. Astrid felt the ghost of a smile tug at her lips when, suddenly, two dolphins jumped right in front of her, and her eyes widened in complete astonishment when she saw the spear one of them was holding. She took a step forward, bending over the dock to peer at the animals as they clicked furiously, as if they were trying to get her attention. The two dolphins she was interested in turned round in the water, their dorsal fin neatly splitting it and leaving a trail of sea-foam behind them as they dashed back to where she stood. They jumped once more, and time seemed to slow when Astrid caught a glimpse of something round and golden and unbelievably familiar that was glinting in the morning sun, hanging between the other dolphin's jaws.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Astrid had jumped into the cold water, crawling towards the mammals and ignoring the astounded cries of the other Vikings around her. The white-beaked dolphins clicked in joy and swam up to her, the biggest of them coming to a halt right in front of her. For a brief moment, the two stared at each other and then the dolphin opened is jaws in what she swore was a smile, and she did not believe what she was seeing.

The Ring of Heavens pendant. The very pendant she had given to Hiccup for his latest birthday. Her fingers trembling slightly, Astrid carefully took the golden medallion, letting her eyes rest on the pure emerald it sported in its centre. There was no possible mistake. This was definitely Hiccup's. He had always kept it with him ever since he had first put it around his neck. Not even a shipwreck would have been able to make Hiccup loose this. And why would a dolphin bother to bring it back to Berk if it had not been asked to? Hiccup had proved he had a way with dragons, so why not dolphins?

"He's alive…" she whispered incredulously, almost afraid of believing her own words. And then it fully hit her. "He's alive! Hiccup's alive!"

And in that moment Astrid felt like her heart would literally explode with hope and gratitude. She was torn between laughing and sobbing, and she did not care. She could only throw her arms around the dolphin in front of her as best as she could, thanking it over and over again while it flapped the water with its tailfins.

* * *

When her excitement had cooled off a little bit and she had had time to warm herself up next to a fire and change clothes, she explained the situation to the chief, her parents and her friends, telling them that no matter what they thought, she was leaving Berk to search for Hiccup herself. Stoick had not even tried to dissuade her; he was probably too happy that there was still hope for his son to be alive, even if that hope had been given to him – to them- by a pod of _dolphins_! He had even ordered the fishermen to feed the mammals in order to thank them for what they had done, convinced that it was a sign of the Gods.

"You shouldn't leave alone." Astrid's mother, Svanhilde the Honest, pointed out sadly. She didn't want her daughter to risk her life for –possibly- nothing.

"But I have to. And no one knows what's waiting for me where-

"My point exactly!"

"But I will be stealthier on my own. Besides, Starkad will be there, too. You can rely on her to protect me, mom."

"What if you _do_ need help?"

"Look, I'll go with Starkad and Ruff's Terrible Terror. As soon as I'll know where Hiccup is and how to get there, I will send you a message thanks to that little bugger, okay? Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."

"Astrid. Does he really mean this much to you?" Svanhilde asked, almost afraid of the answer she would get. Astrid's eyes bore into her own, pride and fierceness showing in every move she made.

"Yes." She replied simply. "This much, and much, much more. And anyway," Astrid added while turning to her friends, "I promised Toothless I would bring Hiccup back, so I really have to do this. I just want you guys to make sure Toothless survives that poison one way or another."

They all nodded - a bit too solemnly for Astrid's taste, but she had more important things to do now. Like packing up, feeding Starkad and asking Gobber to sharpen her axe and Dagmar.

* * *

Arvarodd the Bold and Svanhilde the Honest stood motionless on the docks. Their hands entwined while they stared at the shrinking figure of their daughter in the distance, riding her dragon in the twilight, guided by the once more benevolent dolphins.

"What is wrong with you, Arvarodd? Why did you let her go? She might get killed out there and you know it." Svanhilde demanded, whirling on her husband as soon as Astrid's dragon had vanished from sight.

"I had to. Death is the risk we all take on a daily basis, dear. We're Vikings. And you know better than anyone that Astrid is just as stubborn as the both of us put together; you _know_ how she gets when she's like this. There's no stopping her. She would have gone anyway, with or without our consent. It's better that she leaves with our support than having to sneak away."

Svanhilde glared at him. "Yes, but what if we never see her again?"

Arvarodd the Bold couldn't help but smile as his wife jutted out her lower lip."She'll be fine, dear."

"How do you know?"

The blonde Viking chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I can't _know_, but..." He looked Svanhilde straight in the eye. "She's been in worse situations than this, and she's always pulled through."

Svanhilde had to admit, she was a bit reassured by these words. "That's true. Even when she was a kid, she was always getting herself into and out of danger."

Arvarodd nodded. "Astrid's always been strong. Possibly stronger than I could ever be."

"Me, too," Svanhilde agreed, and then sighed heavily. "I just hope her strength won't fail her."


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's note: Okay, so I should probably warn you that from now on, I will mix real locations with purely invented ones. I'm also using Gaelic vocabulary to give the story more depth. Just so you know. This chapter is dedicated to Miss Pookamonga, who knows why. :-) Also, I would like to point out that while I'm happy when people like this story enough to fave it and subscribe to alerts, I would be even more happy if those people could take the time to tell me _why_ they fave it. It takes only a couple of minutes. I welcome any kind of review, as long as it's written politely. =D**

**I think that's all I wanted to say. I'm shutting up now. ^^**

**

* * *

**Warmth and softness surrounded him, embracing him in their comfortable aura. He did not know where they came from, but he certainly did not mind. Although he could not explain how he knew it, he understood he was slowly coming back to his senses, and it was only when he tried to move that he became fully aware of the several layers of fur that covered his naked body and of the bed he was lying in. His fingers twitched. His ears then perceived the familiar cracking noise and high-pitched whistle logs made when they were burning in the hearth. There was also a voice he did not recognize, quietly humming a tune he was not familiar with. Without opening his eyelids for they still felt incredibly heavy, Hiccup concentrated on his sense of smell, and his nostrils grew larger as they detected the floating, utterly wonderful scent of fresh bread and smoked salmon. He breathed in deeply, and his stomach immediately rumbled in both delight and protest.

Hiccup suddenly realized he was starving. Silently cursing the way his whole body ached, he frowned, willing his eyes to open. It proved to be a difficult task, for his eyelids seemed to be glued with the remnants of his sleep, which he knew had been agitated and filled with nightmares he had not even been able to escape from by waking up. Light eventually made its way to his eyes, and he found his vision was blurry to say the least. He knew rushing things was pointless, and so he patiently waited until he was able to clearly see the ceiling above him, from which numerous random items were hanging. He blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, and found himself staring at a pair of wide, bright blue eyes. He let out a cry of surprise whilst his heart executed a brusque somersault within his chest.

"Hey there! It's about time you woke up!"

Had he been standing, Hiccup knew he would have jumped with fright. One of his hands dashed to rest upon his pounding heart while he stared of the child who was bending above him. He was smiling from ear to ear, and his blue eyes -that were not unlike Astrid's, Hiccup absent-mindedly noticed- seemed to shine with genuine joy. His cheeks were strewn with freckles, and the way his bright orange hair and eyebrows were flaming was enhanced by the glow of the fire. The child's forehead was almost hidden under wild bangs, and a small, tight braid framed the left side of his face. Hiccup guessed the boy had to be roughly eight years old. Ten tops. The child's enthusiastic voice rose in the air again as he briefly looked over his small shoulder to call for his mother, telling her "the man" was finally awake, and returning his attention to the stranger beneath him.

"Are you feeling any better now? My mom and I took good care of you, you know. What's your name? How old are you? Where do you come from? How did you end up here? How-

Hiccup laughed good-heartedly as he put his forefinger on the boy's lips to silence him.

"That's a lot of questions, and I could ask you the same ones."

The boy smiled sheepishly, rubbing his neck as if embarrassed. He opened his mouth again to speak, but before any words could be uttered, another voice cut in.

"Nolan, how many times do I have to tell you to stop being so nosy? Our guest has just woken up and you're already drowning him with questions. Would you just let him breathe?"

Hiccup sat up slowly, groaning through gritted teeth and scolding at the pain that engulfed his left leg even though he did admit that it felt much better, or rather less worse, than when he had collapsed onto the beach, the Gods only knew how long ago. The young Viking looked at the woman who strode along to where he and the boy were, drying her hands clean on the apron she wore in front of her blue dress. Her hair – which she had tied in a ponytail with both a headband of pale yellow fabric and a leather knot-, was the same bright orange as the boy's –Nolan, if he had heard correctly- and her eyes were the same blue. They sparkled with what Hiccup guessed was pure intelligence and mischief. She was rather small, and certainly not as slim as she probably used to be before she had given birth to Nolan and his potential brothers and sisters, but she did have one of the sweetest smiles Hiccup had ever seen. Her voice was high-pitched, extremely melodious, and judging by the tune he had previously heard, he was sure she was a great singer. She also wore two round, golden earrings that matched her pendant and contrasted with the green pearls that constituted her necklace. She had almost joined him when she unexpectedly slapped her forehead in remembrance before turning round and mumbling something about her forgetting her goods manners.

Hiccup smiled. She had not even told him what her name was yet, but he had already decided he liked her. She came back a couple of minutes later, holding a makeshift wooden tray that was collapsing under the weight of food and several beverages – some of them alluringly steaming. She set it down on a rickety table that had been conveniently placed beside the bed before sitting down on the edge of the bed, being careful not to bump into Hiccup's leg.

"Well, it is very nice and quite thoughtful of you to join us for breakfast, young man. Your timing's perfect! Go on, help yourself."

"I-uh…"

She laughed softly and reached out to place her palm against his forehead, smiling approvingly after a couple of seconds had gone by.

"Your fever is almost gone. It seems the herbs I made you drink have finally been efficient. You still need to rest though," she added whilst gesturing to Hiccup's left leg, "because that's a pretty nasty wound you've got there. I may need to change the bandages soon."

He remained silent for a second, looking at the woman and the boy beside him and wondering what he should and could reply, and eventually opted for the question that had been tugging at his mind ever since he had woken up.

"Thank you. But-uh…where is this place? And," he hesitated, not really sure whether he was being offending or not and sincerely hoping the second possibility was the right one, "who are you?"

She burst out laughing, and Hiccup felt relief wash over him as she did. She handed him one of the hot beverages she had brought with her, and he took a careful sip, not wanting to burn his lips, before feeling his eyes widen in delight at the discovery of the wonderful taste that filled his mouth. She wiped a tear of laughter away when she spoke again, her voice calm and collected and obviously amused.

"Oh, I am sorry. You must have been so confused! I should have told you straight away. Please forgive my lack of consideration. You are in the village of Teileann, on the north-west coast of Ireland. My name is Kiristi. Oh, and this scallywag here," she affectionately ruffled the boy's hair for emphasis and possibly good measure, 'is my son Nolan. He's the one who found you on the beach two days ago."

"Really?"

"Yep! And honestly," Nolan added as an afterthought whilst pumping his chest with pride, "God only knows what you'd look like if I hadn't!"

"Nolan!"

"What? It's true!"

"Some things are better left unsaid, Nolan."

"But-

"It's okay, Kiristi. I don't mind. It actually feels good to hear someone making jokes after…after everything. How can I thank the both of you?"

"Getting well as soon as possible would be nice. Although, telling us your name would probably come in handy, too."

The Viking chuckled. "I suppose I can do both. My name's Hiccup Horren-

"Your name's Hiccup? Like hiccups?" Nolan cut in as if he could not believe his ears. "You've got to be kidding us. That's a stupid name."

"Nolan!"

"No, I'm with him on this one. I never liked my name anyway. Where I come from, parents believe that the weirder your name is, the bigger your chances of scaring off trolls and other creatures get. Go figure."

"And where do you come from, Hiccup?" Kiristi asked softly.

He looked down. If he really was in Ireland, then telling those people he was a Viking might actually be a bad idea. It was highly probable that Teileann had had to suffer from Viking raids, and if that was the case, the last thing he wanted to do was stirring gloomy memories in Kiristi's and Nolan's respective minds. It simply wouldn't be fair, considering what they had done for him. On the other hand, they deserved the truth.

"My name is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. I was born on the island of Berk, and I am the only son of Stoick the Vast, mighty chieftain of the Hairy Hooligans tribe."

Silence settled in as Kiristi and Nolan looked him up and down, and he was already wishing he could have kept his mouth shut when the boy suddenly began bouncing up and down before jumping onto the bed and hugging him tightly, a huge grin spreading on his face.

"You're the Viking who tamed a Night Fury! The one the stories tell about! I knew you'd come here someday! I saw you! Didn't I tell you so, Mom? Didn't I?"

Kiristi nodded solemnly, a quizzical expression plastered all over her features. "Yes you did, sweetheart. Now, go fetch some firewood before we start freezing, please."

Nolan let go of Hiccup immediately, and jumped to his feet to run ever so excitedly towards the door. Hiccup glanced at the fireplace and then at the amount of logs that were neatly piling up in a small pyramid beside the hearth, waiting to be used. There was enough wood to last for several days, and Hiccup automatically deduced that Kiristi was only creating a diversion in order to remain alone with him.

"I'll be back soon!" Nolan joyously called over his shoulder before disappearing outside, the door slamming shut behind him. Kiristi turned to Hiccup, staring at him with narrowed eyes. He suddenly felt as if her pupils were piercing right through his soul, baring him until he was nothing but the sheer essence that was him. A shiver ran down his spine, and he unknowingly trembled under the intensity of her stare. Eventually, her eyebrows returned to their normal position and he released the breath he had been holding.

"There is no lie in your eyes."

"I wouldn't lie to you. What was that all about? What did Nolan mean?"

She sighed, and her shoulders slumped.

"Well, you see, Nolan is what we call a Dreamer. When he's asleep, he has the strange ability to glimpse events that are to happen in the future. He doesn't always remember them, though. As far as I'm concerned, his visions have always proved to be true. He's been blabbering for months about an amputated man, a tamer of dragons, whom the sea would bring to Teileann. I bet he never thought it would be Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III himself, though. And yet, here you are."

"Is it just me getting stupid ideas or is this some kind of a bad news for you?"

Kiristi let out a tiny gasp, astounded by the fact that the young man in front of her had actually seen right through her mask in a matter of minutes. She had been so sure he wouldn't notice.

"No. Well, yes. It's complicated. I've come to associate Nolan's visions with bad omens. It's just…the last time Nolan predicted something, it had to do with fishermen disappearing at sea. Two days later, my husband, Feren, and several other men set sail… And we never saw them again."

She was surprised when he shyly took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb across her older skin in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "I'm sorry," he breathed, "I didn't mean to force you to remember this."

"It is not your fault. Thank you for caring, though."

He smiled a bitter, understanding smile, and Kiristi knew he was not telling her everything.

"Is Nolan the only family you've got left?"

She smiled. "No. There's Kiel, too."

"Kiel?"

"Nolan's big brother. He looks a lot like Feren did. I think it's both wonderful and heartbreaking, you know. Every time I see Kiel, I see Feren through him."

"I can understand that. And where is Kiel?"

"Oh, he's not here. All the men in my family have always been fishermen, but Kiel has never liked the sea like the rest of us. And he's always wanted to do something that would give him the opportunity to earn a better living. So, he enlisted to become a soldier. I didn't want him to do this, but of course boys will be boys and he wouldn't listen to me. He visits us when he gets the time."

He nodded, amazed by the cheerfulness Kiristi displayed even when talking about what she disliked. He remembered a question he had been meaning to ask her.

"Kiristi, if I may ask…"

"Yes?"

"Had you known I was a Viking, would you still have helped me?"

"I am a healer, young man. That means I help anyone who's in need. And for the record, I don't see how I could have known you were a Viking. You certainly don't look like one."

He couldn't help but chuckle.

"You wouldn't believe how often I get that." He remarked, making the both of them burst into laughter. Once they had quieted down, Kiristi stood up with every ounce of determination she could summon.

"I'll tell you what, Hiccup. Since I've burned your clothes- don't give me that look, they were completely torn anyway- I'm going to fetch you some new ones. Feren was about as tall as you are, so his former clothes should be a perfect fit for you. Eat at your heart's content while I look for them and for a suitable crutch. Then you can get dressed, and tell me what exactly happened to you. When we're done talking I'll ask Nolan to give you a tour of Teileann. Breathing some fresh air and walking will do you good."

"Sounds great. Thank you."

"You're very welcome. Like I always say to Nolan, those who the sea chooses to spare are blessed, and it is our duty to help them."

* * *

Teileann was a fine village, located near the impressive cliffs of Sliabh Liag. It had a fine deep harbor and boat launching facilities with safe mooring. Everywhere Hiccup and Nolan went, traditional music was also being played, and Hiccup loved the sound and rhythm of it. Flutes, drums and harps rivaled each other in vitality and gave the village a cheerful atmosphere. The wind blew softly, peacefully, in a possible attempt to prove that it could be benevolent and agreeable as well as malevolent and dreadful.

Hiccup and Nolan had been walking together for a while, talking about everything the boy could think of, though it mostly consisted of how to tame and train dragons. Nolan had even asked an unexpected question about Hiccup's abilities as a blacksmith, and he had gawked in absolute wonder when the Viking had started to describe some of the masterpieces he had fashioned, Toothless's tailfin and Dagmar in particular. Talking about Dagmar had of course led Hiccup to talk – or rather to ramble- about Astrid, and Nolan had immediately noticed the sparkle of adoration that lit up the green eyes of his new friend.

It was almost noon when they decided to leave the beach they had wandered to so to go back to Kiristi's dwelling, where they would be able to swallow some food down and, in Hiccup's case, maybe even have a nap.

* * *

That was to ignore the arrival of the Ciar Knights. Their general, who answered to the name of Holin, had personally come to the harbor in order to see why its inhabitants still hadn't paid the taxes he'd asked for and he definitely intended to set things straight if that was what it took for those bloody fishermen to understand that he wasn't someone they could toy around.

He thought he had made this clear before, but apparently that didn't prevent the fishermen from blabbering about how difficult it was this year to make both ends meet.

Honestly, he was tired of the lame excuses the villagers tried to invent to fool him, most of them dealing with the lack of fishes they had been unable to catch. So what? If they were good enough to set sail and tread the waters where the fishes meant to feed their miserable families –the families he was supposed to protect against any attack – could be caught, then it simply meant they were too lazy and selfish and obviously lacked a fair amount of perseverance to meet their commitments and provide the city with the fruits of their work. And if _they_ didn't meet their commitments, why in the world should _he_?

As far as he was concerned, he was only being fair when he ordered his men to sack Teileann and make an example of this place, even if his own second-in-command, the Captain Tiernan, had tried to make him change his mind, arguing that the villagers did not deserve such a treatment. Holin thought he really had to do something to help Tiernan toughen up a bit and stop trying to intercede on behalf of those scums.

Besides, Holin _liked_ the way the fire ravaged the houses in front of him, their dwellers running in all directions to escape from the devastating flames. Then again, if they did escape from them, they had to face his Ciar Knights. Needless to say, that was a lost battle in itself.

It wasn't long before he could hear men trying to fight and defend themselves and their families –an odd urge he had never quite understood. In his humble opinion, it was far more convenient to keep oneself from getting imprisoned within the yoke of a family. Pushing his musings aside for the time being, Holin resumed his staring at the fiery show – he just loved to make such puns- that took place in front of his eyes.

Children, helpless and horrified, crying out in utter terror whilst women begged their black-armored assailants -who had taken it upon themselves to show them what real men were made of- to spare them, and the whole thing made Holin suddenly feel a familiar, natural urge. He decided that he would have to do something about his own needs once they came back to the city. Of course, said needs would have to wait until the Ravens' Tribunal was satisfied.

Suddenly, Holin heard something peculiar. He could have sworn a woman had just cried out something about getting away from here and keeping someone safe. His eyes narrowed, trying to find a rational explanation for this and they methodically began to scan the whole area. At first, he didn't see anything that seemed to be out of place in the raging inferno. And finally, finally, through the ascending wreath of ash and smoke, he spotted two figures – a man and a boy- running away in the distance.

"Captain!"

Tiernan made his horse step forward until he was beside his immediate superior, glad to avert his eyes from the slaughter that was taking place in front of his eyes and taking great relief in his earlier decision to assign another mission to Kiel. At least he was not there to witness this massacre.

"My General?"

Holin extended his arm, his forefinger indicating the place Tiernan had to look at.

"Get them."

* * *

When Hiccup and Nolan had come back from the beach and seen what was happening to the village, they had been left rooted to the spot. At least, until the boy had run off as fast as his legs enabled him, yelling for his mother whilst tears of panic had rolled freely down his freckled cheeks. Without his prosthesis, there was no way Hiccup could have caught up with the vigorous boy. The crutch Kiristi had given him could only help him stand and hop around.

His leg had not appreciated the physical strain, but Hiccup had known he had to get Nolan before it was too late. Remembering Astrid's training sessions, he had focused solely on his objective, ignoring both the pain in his leg and the ever-increasing amount of corpses the ground had been covered up with. Coughing and tears burning his eyes, Hiccup had eventually been able to grab Nolan by his shirt in the heartbeat of time before a soldier spotted the both of them. Hating himself for it, Hiccup had forced the child to keep quiet whilst he had started to look for a way to escape from Teileann. That was when they had suddenly seen Kiristi being taken away by two armored men. She had been beaten up, and possibly worse considering how torn her dress was, and Hiccup had felt the need to throw up in disgust.

He had not been able to prevent Nolan from screaming.

Kiristi had immediately searched for the origin of the noise, and the exact, terrifying moment her gaze had held Hiccup's had been excruciatingly painful. She had known what was at stake, and he had remembered her words about Nolan's visions being bad omens. _He_ had been Nolan's latest vision. The last thing she had done before being dragged away had been to beg him to save her child. He had nodded, and their gazes had unlocked.

And so he had forcefully grabbed the boy's arm, ignoring his desperate protests. And they had started to run for their lives.

Hiccup kept forcing Nolan to run, and when he dared to look above his shoulder, he was panic stricken. A man, wearing a uniform and riding a horse, was rapidly gaining ground on them. The powerful beast had been put at full gallop, and it wouldn't take long for the rider, who had drawn his sword in a fateful promise, to join them. Looking around him, Hiccup saw no place where Nolan and he could hide. Sensing that something was wrong, Nolan stopped running and spotted the threat.

Hiccup pushed him roughly with his crutch, ordering him to go away. The child hesitated, still visibly shaken by everything that had happened. And just when the young Viking was going to hurl hateful words at the boy in a desperate attempt to make him flee, he felt something whiz past his cheek. Trying to make sense of it, Hiccup turned round just in time to see an arrow stick in the breast of his pursuer's horse. The animal toppled to the ground, emitting a loud neigh of pain and dragging its uncomprehending rider down in its fall.

Hiccup and Nolan both span round when they heard the distinct sound of another horse galloping at full speed towards them from the opposite direction. This new rider wore neither a uniform nor armor but brown pants along with a white shirt and a red hood. A sword hung at his belt, and both a bow and a quiver were strapped onto his back. Whoever he was, he had just saved the both of them, if only temporarily. He had to be on their side. Hiccup waited until the man draw level with them and then scooped Nolan up in his arms, shoving the boy into the rider's grasp.

"Take him away!"

"No! I don't wanna go with him! No! Hiccup!" Nolan protested, struggling with all his might. "Let me go!"

The rider didn't loosen his grip on the child, looking down at the amputated young man in front of him.

"What about you?" he inquired.

"To Hel with me! I'll manage! Just take him somewhere safe before it's too late! NOW!"

The rider's brown eyes met Hiccup's green ones for a couple of seconds, a precious time during which a silent agreement seemed to pass between them, and he simply nodded once before making his horse turn round and break into a gallop, the hammering of the beast's hooves punctuated by Nolan's cries. Hiccup watched until they disappeared behind the line of the horizon, and then dropped to his knees, heaving and finally allowing himself to vomit all the horrors he had witnessed in a matter of days. At least Nolan was safe now. Hopefully.

When he felt the tip of a sword press into his back, Hiccup knew who he would have to face. Looking above his shoulder, he was not surprised to see how angry his pursuer seemed to be. Forced to turn round so to face him, the tip of the sword now pointing at his throat, Hiccup studied his opponent. The man was about his height. His eyes, which glared venomously at him, were an odd color, a mix between grey and blue, and his hair, just like his goatee, were pitch black. Hiccup noticed the single golden earring his right ear sported, as well as the scar that separated in right cheek in two halves. His right eyebrow was also strangely cut in two by another scar. The most surprising thing about him, Hiccup thought, was that he looked nothing like the soldiers he had seen in Teileann.

"Who are you?"

Hiccup glared in return. "Tell me your name, rider, and I may tell you mine."

The man's eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, he was not accustomed to being challenged this way, let alone by a cripple. He replied nonetheless, appreciating the guts the young man had but not lowering his sword for all that. Little did he know that Hiccup was only trying to gain time and to think of an entirely fake name. He picked the first that came to his mind.

"The name's Tiernan. Yours?"

"Feren. Feren Rurikson."

Tiernan immediately pressed his sword against Hiccup's Adam apple, drawing a single drop of blood.

"You're a Viking."

"So?"

"I hate Vikings. They butchered my family and my village when I was little. That means I can't trust you."

"How original. But surely you're smart enough to deduce that I wasn't amongst those Vikings. Besides, I'm on my own and honestly, what harm could a cripple like me possibly do?"

Tiernan seemed to contemplate the extent of those words for a moment.

"Give me one reason why I should spare your life."

"I'm a pretty good blacksmith."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm a pretty good blacksmith." Hiccup repeated with a calculated smile. "Soldiers like you surely need the best weapons around, I presume? Well, I can make them."

Both men stared at each other for a moment, and Tiernan ultimately sheathed his sword.

* * *

Hiccup did not look back when Holin and the Ciar Knights took him with them to the city, where he would have to prove his previous statements. Holin had certainly not been pleased when Tiernan had informed him that one of the fugitives had managed to escape thanks to the help of one of the 'Thousand Wolves', but the general had almost graciously accepted the proposition of 'Feren Rurikson'. If the latter was telling the truth in regard to his skills in the smithy, then, the general had stated, he might even discuss the possibility of setting him free. But for now, Hiccup knew he was nothing but a prisoner.

Holin had also ordered Tiernan to remain with his men in Teileann for a couple of days to make sure no eventual survivor would escape. About thirty people from the village, including Kiristi, had been made prisoners too. But in their unfortunate case, Holin wanted them to face the Ravens' Tribunal.

The one thing that Hiccup had no idea about was that Tiernan had asked one of his most trusted men, Midel, to go with Holin and the Ciar Knights in order to keep Feren Rurikson under close scrutiny.


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's note: First of all, happy new year! I hope 2011 will be a wonderful year for all of you! the second thing is, I've been buried under a mountain of work recently, which explains the lack of updates on this story. But this chapter is 13 pages long, so I hope it makes up for your patience ;-)**

**The third thing is: special thanks to MattLuvzJones for his thorough reviews and constructive criticims, which is always welcome. Special thanks, too, to Ch4rms/Gumdrop Boo who helped me on a particular line of this chapter. I dedicate this chapter to the both of you in thanks. :-)**

**And that's about it. Enjoy your reading, and if you can, don't forget to hit that little button authors love so much! **

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Astrid was beginning to wonder what kind of trick the Gods were playing on her. She had been flying for several hours and, according to her calculations, had covered about seven hundred and sixty miles and the pod of dolphins below her still hadn't cease to swim. She could only make out their silhouettes now and had even needed to force them to stop several times, for Starkad wasn't accustomed to such long flights and taking regular breaks was thus unavoidable. Astrid had taken pride on her decision to let Hiccup teach her Deadly Nadder how to make a sea-landing. However, Starkad was getting very tired and would need to stop flying soon and even though Astrid loathed the idea of losing some precious time, she knew pushing her dragon too far would only increase her already fair share of problems. The Deadly Nadder had gradually been losing altitude and tried to use the warm currents of air in order to glide and rest her wings as often as possible. As for Ruffnut's Terrible Terror, Spark, he was comfortably sleeping on the saddle, behind the blonde Viking and obviously didn't give a damn about the journey.

Astrid scanned the horizon in search of anything that looked like land. The night had fallen for a couple of hours, and while her dragon's eyes were not that bothered by the absence of daylight, her own definitely lacked that ability and her navigation relied solely on the polar star and Starkad's skills. Allowing herself to close her eyes for what she thought was only a moment, Astrid concentrated on the feeling of the Ring of Heavens pendant moving slightly against her chest.

She must have fallen asleep –a dangerous concept when riding a dragon- and was jolted awake when Starkad let out a furious screech and banked right abruptly to avoid colliding with an imposing rock face she was positive hadn't been there moments ago. Blinking rapidly to shake her brain back into place, she deftly maneuvered Starkad up again, and as her dragon turned round, she was able to realize the rock face in question was actually a series of enormous sea-cliffs.

"Phew…That was close."

Starkad responded by an indignant squawk, to which Astrid couldn't help but smile and pat the dragon on her neck to apologize for the lack of concentration. Deep inside her, Astrid was immensely relieved; now that she'd found land, her Deadly Nadder would finally be able to rest. Looking down, she tried to see if the dolphins were still there, but the surrounding darkness of the moonless night made it nearly impossible to spot anything. She would have liked to thank the mammals for their help. Shrugging, Astrid focused on her current objective –landing- and could make out a point of light, probably streaming from a window, about six hundred feet away from the edge of the cliffs. The Deadly Nadder suddenly emitted a quiet whine, and Astrid took her cue. Her dragon's wings would soon give out from exhaustion.

Starkad's landing was nowhere near as perfect as it usually was, but considering the physical strain the dragon had undergone for the past hours, Astrid warmly complimented her spiked friend nonetheless. It was only then that the Terrible Terror behind her seemed to deem it necessary to wake up. Sliding down the neck and shoulder of her dragon, Astrid's boots hit the ground noiselessly, and she took a moment to stretch her numb limbs. Some of her bones popped a little at the rough awakening. Down below, she could hear the waves as they repeatedly crashed on the rocks as if attempting to break them. Had she fallen off of Starkad, she probably would have ended up in a state she didn't quite like to imagine.

When she had looked all around her and was sure she was alone, she undid the straps that held Dagmar as well as her axe and the spear the dolphins had brought to Berk in position on Starkad's saddle. She supposed there was a reason Hiccup wanted her to have the spear, and had thus decided to take it with her. Carefully, she set all three weapons on the ground before opening the bag that contained the new clothes she'd brought with her. Wherever she was, she didn't want people to know she was a Viking by simply looking at her. Removing her shoulder pads and the rest of her armor, she felt a shiver run down her spine. It wasn't long until she got rid of the rest of her usual clothing and put on the long-sleeved, vivid red shirt and the long, robin's egg blue tunic that went past her hips and which Svanhilde had designed to look like some sort of dress and stuffed with fur to make sure her daughter wouldn't get cold. After having tied a light, comfortable black belt around her narrow waist and having done Dagmar's scabbard up to said belt, Astrid quickly rearranged her hair into its tight braid out of pure habit. Slipping a pair of leather gauntlets on, she bent to pick up her axe and securely strapped it on her back. She figured she could use the spear as a staff when walking. On the one hand, she hoped carrying all three weapons with her would dissuade any numbskull from attacking her, and on the other hand, she hoped it wouldn't scare people off too easily because, as much as she hated admitting it, she depended on the information they could provide her with. After all, she didn't know a thing about the place Hiccup had been taken to, wherever that might be. Sighing – mainly out of frustration-, she gathered her former clothes in order to put them into the bag she would leave with Starkad and was surprised to make out a small pouch at the bottom of it. She reached for it, not remembering putting it there in the first place, her eyes widening in pleasant surprise at the familiar sensation of coins tintinabulating through the leather. There was enough gold in there to last for several weeks. Opening the pouch out of pure curiosity, her inquisitive fingertips brushed against a small piece of parchment that had been tucked inside the pouch.

"Starkad? Can you give me a little bit of light, please?"

The Deadly Nadder complied immediately, breathing out gas and lighting it gently to produce a soft, durable flame. The piece of parchment Astrid was holding was covered with a scruffy handwriting that she recognized easily.

_Hey. _

_Dunno when you'll read this, but I totally beat the crap out of Tuff and 'Lout to get them to gimme their savings for ya. 'Legs did it on his own, shows how persuasive I am. _

_Send us Spark when you can to keep us posted. We'll be on the lookout._

_Ruff._

_P.S.: When you find your puddle of love, give him a big wet one for me, will ya?_

"Yeah, one can dream," Astrid commented in mock exasperation, even though a smile was creeping on her lips. Typical Ruffnut. Sure, she was crazy, but the both of them had been friends for as long as Astrid could remember. Good friends. Always playing tricks on one another, and most importantly on the others. True partners in crime, they were, and Astrid would not have it any other way. She replaced the parchment into the pouch, and secured the whole thing to her belt, appreciating Ruffnut's thoughtfulness. The way the coins tinkled cheerfully was a welcome sound indeed.

Once sure she wasn't forgetting anything, Astrid turned to her dragon and extended her hand to scratch the tiny crevice just above the animal's eye, making Starkad purr blissfully.

"Alright, girl. Get yourself a nice cave or something. I'll continue on my own for now."

The spiked dragon perked up upon hearing her rider's words, obviously not agreeing with the blonde Viking.

"I know you don't like this, but I need to be as stealthy as possible. Stay here and rest."

For a couple of seconds, Starkad looked her rider up and down, emitting a series of indignant squawks in protest, but when it became clear that Astrid wasn't going to change her mind about this, the dragon eventually ended up laying down, turning her back on the blonde Viking and sulking for good measure.

"Dragons," Astrid commented, chuckling quietly. Motioning for Spark to follow her, she turned round and headed for the point of light ahead of her, her steps light but determined.

She hoped whoever was living in the cottage would be able to provide her with at least a little bit of information. Whilst walking, she let her mind wander back to the conversation she'd had with Stoick before her departure. The bitter hours during which they'd both believed they definitely had lost Hiccup forever had created a bond between them. And although neither Stoick nor Astrid had been able to know what to say to one another, their mutual, silent grief had been enough for the Chief to give her a father-like hug before the beginning of Old Wrinkly's funeral. Astrid knew how she felt without Hiccup, but she could only imagine what Stoick had felt like when he'd thought he'd lost the last remaining member of his family, his own flesh and blood. The burden of being Berk's chieftain had prevented him from giving in to his despair in front of the village and his responsibilities had given something else to focus on, but she knew that deep inside, despite the Viking-like façade, Stoick had been more than hurt by the recent events. He'd been broken, and the simple way he'd quietly closed the door behind him after having attended his duties had been enough for Astrid too see right through him. Maybe Hiccup was right about not concealing his emotions after all. Why did they all have to be so worried about letting others know just how they felt? What was it that Vikings actually _feared_ about this?

Astrid's thoughts were shattered as she suddenly found herself facing the front door of the "cottage" she'd been heading for. It looked actually much bigger than she had expected. She could hear many different voices talking, shouting, laughing or singing inside, though they were mainly masculine. Astrid smiled to herself in acknowledgement. Back on Berk, there was only one place that would be still open at this hour of night and resound with such merry, inebriated sounds. She saw no reason why this place would be any different. Looking up to confirm her suspicions, she spotted a wooden board hanging above the door and she had to tilt her head to the side to read the inscription it sported.

_The Ugly Bastard. _

"Well, how nice is that? C'mon, Spark," Astrid said while looking above her shoulder at Ruffnut's Terrible Terror, "Let's get something to drink."

The door creaked angrily when she pulled it, but only she heard it amidst the ambient noise. Looking around her, her eyes widened a bit out of surprise. She did not remember the last time she'd seen so many people at once in a single tavern. That was, however, good news since it would hopefully prevent her from being at the centre of attention.

"Hey honey! Mind shutting the bloody door?" some drunkard barked unceremoniously as he passed by her. She considered making him swallow his words but decided that threatening him to chop his private parts in the middle of the tavern would be anything but stealthy. Not to mention a complete waste of time. Emitting a low growl of displeasure, she complied anyway and shut the door roughly before taking a couple of steps forward, trying to spot a free table and feeling her anger rise within her as she found none. That is, until she heard someone whistle _that_ tune, the one Snotlout had always used to try to get her attention. She spun round, her eyes narrowing dangerously as they peered at a group of men sitting around a table at the other end of the room, ogling her and thrusting their hips forward in obscene motions and laughing ridiculously. That is, until they noticed the axe she was gripping ferociously as she strode along to where they were. Had she paid a little bit of attention, Astrid would have noticed the silence that had suddenly fallen all around her, following each step she took. In one swift motion, she raised the weapon above her head and let it sail through the air until it stuck itself into the table with a loud _thunk_. The men yelped in fright and looked up to stare at the blonde woman in front of them. She savored the way their jaws dropped under her coldest glare.

"Get out. Now."

Drunk or not, the implied threat was perfectly understood. Maybe it was the alcohol that made their minds sharper, or maybe it was simply the gruesome glint of the axe or the sight of the two other weapons the woman carried with her. Whatever the case, the men stood up abruptly and rushed out of _The Ugly Bastard_ as if all Hel had just broken loose.

Astrid allowed herself to snicker in a _very _despising manner. "Cowards."

It was only then that she became aware of how silent the tavern had become, all customers staring at her as if she'd farted at a funeral.

_Great. So much for being stealthy._

Deciding that it was too late to change what had just happened anyway, Astrid let out a loud "What?" that resulted in countless mumblings as the other customers quickly and wisely forgot about her to mind their own buisness. The blonde Viking plopped into one of the chairs, Spark settling comfortably on her knees and rumbling happily as the human's fingers scratched his back absent-mindedly. Taking in her surroundings, Astrid's nostrils narrowed blissfully the moment they detected the wonderful smell of spit-roasted meat that floated in the air, and it made her stomach awaken eagerly. From what she could see, most customers were busy drinking, eating, arm-wrestling, rushing outside to lose their latest meal and trying to seduce some of the waitresses. There was also a funny-looking man – mainly because of his odd haircut – who was busy singing something about a monkey in his pocket. She listened for a moment to the stupid lyrics until a powerful, deep voice made itself heard beside her. She looked up, meeting the gaze of a friendly looking man whom she supposed was the innkeeper.

"Welcome to _The Ugly Bastard_, lassie. Nice of ya to scare my customers off. What's the big idea?"

"….Sorry."

The man chuckled good-heartedly whilst wiping the table clean with a cloth. "Nah, those idiots deserved it. Actually, you did me a service kickin' them out. So," he added, giving her a knowing wink, "What'll it be for ya? My round."

She smiled. "A pint of mead, please. And a plate of whatever's being cooked in the kitchen."

The innkeeper shot her an appreciating smile. "Smells nice, eh? My wife's been trying new recipes recently. Good thing, too, 'cause her peas played hell with my digestion. But don't tell her I told ya or she'll hit me with that damn fryin' pan of hers."

"No problem."

"I'll be back with your order."

* * *

In the meantime, miles away from _The Ugly Bastard_, Nolan was slowly awakening from his agitated slumber. Blinking, he tried to focus on the landscape that surrounded him, but the stars were not casting enough light to distinguish anything clearly. His back ached uncomfortably because of the incessant gallop of the horse he was sitting on. The redhead boy didn't know how much time had elapsed since Hiccup had shoved him into the strong arms of Dalkor, the rider who had saved him from the Ciar Knights' attack at Teilann. Nolan had not even had the time to ask where they were heading for when Dalkor had entrusted him - several days ago - into another rider's care – Brian, if Nolan had heard correctly- with the absolute and immediate order to take the boy to the friary of Ceartlár. Apparently that was the only place Dalkor deemed safe enough for Nolan to stay at.

The memories of what had happened at Teilann assaulted Nolan's mind, and he felt his eyes burn with fresh, hot tears as his mother's pleas resounded in his ears again. He wished he could have done something to save her, but Hiccup had prevented him from doing anything. And why was Kiel never there when he should be? Nolan felt rage bubble up inside him, hating both his big brother for having been absent and Hiccup for having abandoned him like that, although Nolan knew he was being unfair to the young Viking. After all, Hiccup had only wanted to protect him and he had done the only thing he could.

Hiccup…What had happened to him? Was he dead? That was what Dalkor supposed. He'd told the boy that the Ciar Knights never spared fugitives unless they had a good reason to do so. And, according to the fair-haired, red-hooded horse-rider, they certainly had no reason to spare a cripple who'd helped someone escape from the attack. But the boy knew Hiccup was smart, so maybe the young man had actually managed to save his own life…Nolan certainly hoped so. He had not known Hiccup for a very long time, but he had immediately felt as if the Viking was a good old friend, not unlike what little he remembered his father being like. Nolan had been only four years old when Feren had disappeared at sea, and the only thing he could remember was his mother trying to tell him as gently as possible that Feren would not come back. Out of sheer innocence, Nolan had asked Kiristi if, when one died, it was for all life long, and it had resulted in a bittersweet moment between the two.

The hammering of the horse's hooves slowly died, and Nolan looked up to peer at the ever increasing silhouette of an imposing building whose numerous windows were still lit by candle light. The fifteen feet high, stone grey walls stood proudly, surrounding what he guessed could only be their destination. It was only at that moment that the vice-like pressure of Brian's arm around the boy's waist lessened a little.

"Nolan?" Brian asked gently, sympathetically, not knowing whether the boy sitting in front of him was awake or not. No reply came, but he could feel the child's body tense and knew Nolan was listening. If the redhead boy didn't wish to speak, that was fine with Brian. He figured Nolan had seen enough horror already and that it would take some time before he was ready to talk about what had happened.

"This is the friary of Ceartlár, where you will stay until it's safe for you to go somewhere else. The friars are very friendly men, you know. Especially Friar Curren. They will take good care of you. Dalkor and I will try to come and visit you as often as possible. You have to be nice with the friars, okay?"

"…Yes."

"Good."

The horse they were riding came to stop in front of the main gate, and both passengers dismounted from the tired animal, Brian's hand patting its neck in thanks. Nolan did the same, his eyes glancing at the equid's dilated nostrils and the way they fogged up the air when breathing out. Brian took a step forward and reached for the bell that had been conveniently placed at the entrance of the friary. The bell rang loudly, emitting a clear, silver sound that echoed all around them. The horse did not seem to be frightened by the noise, and while they all waited for someone to open the heavy wooden gate, Nolan came to the conclusion that it probably meant Dalkor and Brian and whoever was on their side paid regular visits to the friars.

"Who are you, you who seek God's humble servants' services?" a calm, melodious voice asked from the other side of the door.

"Friar Curren! It's me, Brian! I've come on Dalkor's behalf."

The order to open the door was immediately uttered and both Brian and Nolan were soon greeted by a group of five benevolent-looking friars carrying candles to provide them with more light. The oldest friar made his way to where Brian stood and both men hugged each other for a brief moment before the friar's eyes settled on Nolan. The boy shuddered under the intensity of the older man's pupils, which were a rather beautiful mix of different shades of brown, and silence settled as Friar Curren and the boy stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. The friar finally raised an eyebrow in question, and Brian immediately answered.

"The Ciar Knights ransacked Teilann, Friar Curren. Holin himself was leading them. They massacred everything and almost everyone. Dalkor says they took some prisoners and are leading them to Dún Fionnachaidh right now. We think Holin wants them to face –

"The Ravens' Tribunal."

"Yes."

Friar Curren sighed audibly, shaking his head sadly. "One day, Holin will burn in Hell for his crimes. What about that boy?"

Brian motioned for Nolan to leave the horse's side and come over to where they stood. He put a protective hand on the boy's shoulder as the latter lowered his head, his wild bangs hiding tired blue eyes, refusing to look anywhere but the ground.

"This is Nolan. He's the only one who's escaped from the attack. Apparently, he was saved by a young, crippled man who literally threw him onto Dalkor's horse. Dalkor says the man begged him to take the boy somewhere safe despite being himself in serious danger. We don't know what exactly happened to him, but there's much to bet that he's dead by now. You know how Holin and the Ciar Knights are. Dalkor wanted to honor his wish though, and he ordered me to bring Nolan here in the hope that you'd take him in as long as necessary. Can you do us that favor?"

Friar Curren did not answer straight away, choosing instead to kneel in front of the redhead boy and lifting his chin with the tip of his forefinger.

"Do _you_ want to stay here, Nolan?"

Nolan's eyes widened. Was the friar really giving him a choice? He glanced rapidly at Brian, who nodded solemnly in response. He couldn't say that he _wanted_ to stay at Ceartlár, but it still seemed like the best option he had. Nolan closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the way his mother had cried out to Hiccup to save him, to protect him. The Viking had done everything he could, and Nolan thought he'd really be ungrateful if he ruined their efforts. No, they had all wanted him to be safe, and so safe he would be, if only out of respect for them. Nolan opened his eyes again, and felt hot tears roll down his cheeks as he looked down at Friar Curren again.

"Yes, please."

Friar Curren smiled warmly, reaching out to cup the boy's cheeks and wipe his tears away with his thumbs. "Then so be it. You're a brave boy. Brian," he added whilst getting up, "do you wish to spend the night? We will gladly put you up until morning."

"No, but thank you. I have to go back and tell the others about what happened. Dalkor wants me to be back as soon as possible."

Friar Curren frowned, and then turned round to whisper something into another friar's ear. The man nodded eagerly and ran off to do whatever he'd been asked to. It was only when he came back with a magnificent, frisky palomino that was pawing the ground in impatience that Brian understood what Friar Curren had had in mind.

"Then take at least another horse. Yours is exhausted. We will take care of him until you return."

Brian's face lit up instantly at that prospect. He'd have been lying if he'd said that he wasn't worried about his horse's current state. It was obvious that the poor animal wouldn't have been able to carry him for more than a single mile. Beaming, he nodded and mounted agilely on the palomino's back, expertly appreciating the strong shape of the animal. Brian looked down at the group of friars below him. "Thank you for everything. I shall return soon."

"May God bless the Thousand Wolves. Goodbye, brother. Send Dalkor my best regards."

"I will. Goodbye, Nolan."

The latter only nodded in response, and Brian gave the horse its head. Nolan stared at his shrinking figure until it became nothing but an undistinguishable point in the night. The boy didn't dare to move until he felt a firm yet gentle hand settle on his shoulder and he looked up, and the sad yet welcoming smile Friar Curren was giving him made him feel like he was going to burst into tears again.

"When you feel like you are ready, we will teach you everything that you might want to learn from us. But for now, let us get you something to eat, and then you can rest at your heart's content."

* * *

Astrid wiped her mouth clean, still savoring the tiniest taste lingering on her tongue. The Irish stew she'd almost wolfed down had been delicious beyond anything she'd ever eaten on Berk. It was too bad she didn't have the time to ask for the recipe. There were only a few people still in the main room of _The Ugly Bastard_, and most of them were sound asleep, sprawled all over the tables and snoring like dragons. The innkeeper and his employees – those who were not busy upstairs with some customers, that is – were busy cleaning the whole place and trying to make the last drunkards leave. When he noticed the blonde woman had finished her food, the innkeeper snapped his fingers and a black-haired waitress immediately rushed to clear the table. It was only when she disappeared behind the door which led to the kitchen that he decided to come over and take the seat opposite Astrid.

"Well? What do ya think?"

"It was delicious, thank you."

He smiled happily at the compliment, pride painting itself on his face. "So what are ya doin' here anyway? I've never seen ya before. I'd have noticed."

"I'm looking for someone."

"Oh?"

"A young man, my age. Russet hair, green eyes, a lot of freckles and a little scar on the chin. Thin, probably wearing a green tunic as well. And, well," Astrid added with a pained smile, "missing half of his left leg."

The innkeeper shook his head categorically. "Nope, doesn't ring any bells. Sorry."

"No trouble. It would have been too good to be true."

"If I may ask, why are ya lookin' for the lad?"

"We're…engaged."

Astrid didn't know what she found the most curious: the way the innkeeper's eyes seemed to jump out of their eyeballs or the fact that she was having this conversation with a man she'd never met before.

"And he ran off?"

This time, Astrid laughed good-heartedly at the innkeeper's expression and his 'the lad's gotta be crazy' motion.

"No, no! He didn't run off. We just had…different matters to attend and we agreed on meeting one another somewhere around here when we'd be done." Astrid explained, deciding that a small white lie wasn't going to ruin her cover and intentions. She simply didn't want to tell the innkeeper about Hiccup's abduction.

"Oh, I see. Well, I'm sorry I can't help you, lassie. One piece of advice though: don't go near Teilann."

"Really? Why?"

"Bein' an innkeeper and all is a good way to gather information, and I heard people talk about how the village was ravaged several days ago by the Ciar Knights."

"The Ciar Knights?"

"Aye. Bloody mercenaries, they are. Always wearing black armors."

Astrid's heart suddenly tightened, and whether it was in terror or absolute hope she did not know. The men who had attacked Old Wrinkly, Hiccup, Toothless and her in the clearing days ago had been wearing pitch black armors. This could not be a coincidence. Loki might as well be honest.

"And where exactly is Teilann?"

The innkeeper's jaw dropped in sincere horror. For God's sake, he'd just told her to avoid that forsaken place!

"Now, lassie, did ya hear what I just told ya? Teilann's been destroyed. There's nothin' to see there."

"Please. I need to make sure my fiancé wasn't there when the attack happened."

He sighed regretfully, definitely not wanting the woman in front of him to go there. But she had her reasons.

"It's about three miles away from here. You must go to the south-east. The village's below the bulk of the sea-cliffs."

"Well," Astrid announced as she rose to her feet, Ruffnut's Terrible Terror clearly not appreciating the sudden, unexpected movement, "I'll get going, then."

"What, now? But it's the dead of night! Ya can't just wander outside like that!"

"I appreciate your concern, but I don't want to waste any more time. Thank you very much for your help. And for the meal. You sure you don't want me to pay anything?"

"Aye. Ya remind me of my daughter. Beautiful like ya, she was." The blonde Viking could only notice the veil of sadness and utter grief that suddenly appeared in the innkeeper's eyes. "Anyway, can I at least interest ya in a horse or somethin'? I don't like the thought of ya bein' all alone outta here."

Astrid kept quiet for a second. She had a dragon, after all, and she was pretty sure Starkad would be insanely jealous if she found out her rider was travelling on another animal, but at the same time a horse would certainly be far less conspicuous than a Deadly Nadder, and less likely to arouse suspicion.

"A horse sounds good. But this time, I'll pay."

* * *

Once she was sitting comfortably on her newly acquired pitch black stallion, she looked down at the innkeeper who was busy fastening her axe and spear to the saddle. She didn't know where she was going and what dangers she was literally throwing herself into, but she knew she'd never forget about that innkeeper's help and generosity. Hadn't it been for him, she would have wasted such a precious amount of time looking for the tiniest clue that might lead her to Hiccup. The innkeeper quickly completed his task and wiped his hands clean on his apron, stroking the horse's strong neck affectionately.

"Teilann is over there, lassie. Trust your horse when ya don't see the path."

"Thank you. You've never told me your name."

"Ya haven't told me yours either, lassie. And honestly, I don't care. Just promise ya'll be careful. Those are dangerous times we're livin'."

"Promise. When I find my man, we'll come back to _The Ugly Bastard_ and share a drink with you."

"I'll be waitin', lassie, I'll be waitin'."

And with that, Astrid made her stallion turn round and break into a pleasant gallop in the direction the innkeeper had indicated, her heart soaring with newfound hope. If Teilann had been attacked recently, then Hiccup might not be as far away from her as she had previously thought. It was only a question of time before she found him.

She was definitely in higher spirits than the day before, and it was a welcome change indeed. Yes, Hiccup may be in trouble –and he probably was, since he was Hiccup after all- but she was the epitome of Viking-ness and nothing would prevent her from destroying any obstacle that would dare to try preventing her from reaching her one and only goal.

The air was cool, not cold, and riding a horse was a new sensation to her. She figured that she'd have no problem with it after riding a dragon, and she was right. She could use the same gestures to make her mount do roughly the same things than Starkad –who, by the way, still hadn't showed up since Astrid had left her on the edge of the sea-cliffs.

According to the indications the innkeeper had given her and her own calculations, she'd already managed to cover half of the distance that separated her from Teilann. She concentrated on the way her hips had to follow the movement of the stallion's gallop to keep her balance and she reveled at the familiar yet still fantastic feeling of the wind blowing in her face when her horse suddenly reared up, emitting a loud neigh of terror, and she only attributed the fact that she hadn't fallen off the saddle straight away to her dragon riding skills.

The stallion refused to calm down whatever soothing motions and words she tried to use, and she ultimately decided to dismount to check what the Hel was wrong. She had not taken three steps forward when she felt something wrap around her ankle, and she cried out in surprise. Kicking out wildly to free herself, she felt her eyes widen when her foot collided with what could only be someone's jaw, and the cries of pain that followed only confirmed it.

"What the-

Astrid bent over to take a better look at the scene before her .There, just in front of her, laid three men. Two of them were completely motionless, and judging by the size of the respective pools of blood they were bathing in, there wasn't much she could do for them anymore except maybe close their eyes. The isolated surroundings and the expression of surprise on their seemingly carved faces told her everything she needed to know about what had happened to them. She knew what an ambush looked like, and she'd be damned if this hadn't been one. The third man, however, was still moving and hoarsely whispering unintelligible things to whoever might hear him. He was probably the one whom she had just kicked in the face. Frowning, Astrid kneeled beside him and rolled him none too gently in her lap to check his wounds. They were serious, but not deadly. She was positive he would make it.

"Hey there. Can you hear me?"

"Diamonds…gone…Thousand…Wolves…"

Great. He was being delirious. Just what she needed.

"Help…us."

She sighed, more out of frustration than anything else, really. "Us? There's no 'us' here. Your companions are dead."

He seemed to focus a bit more at that, though his breathing was still much labored.

"Please…Take us back…to Teilann."

_Teilann?_

He wanted to go to Teilann? Now that was something Astrid had not expected. Looking around her, she suddenly noticed broken pieces of black armor scattered all around the place, and it suddenly hit her. Those men were probably Ciar Knights. They had been attacked by someone – or something – and if the last of the three wanted to go back to Teilann, it could only mean that at least a troop of soldiers was still there. And if she actually brought those men back to their leader, whoever he was, he would welcome her with open arms. Infiltrating a troop of Ciar Knights seemed like the best plan she had for now, and so she stood up and went to where her stallion stood and took her axe. The only way she could bring three men and herself to Teilann with only one horse was to build a makeshift splint for the corpses. Then she'd put the survivor onto the saddle and cover the remaining distance by foot.

And then, when she'd finally get to Teilann, her plan would be set into motion.

* * *

**Special footnote: Careful readers probably noticed it, but I want to point out that the guy Astrid sees singing about a monkey at _The Ugly Bastard_ is definitely a reference to Monkey Island. I was surprised at how many people liked the crossover I draw on Da between Hiccup and Guybrush Threepwood, so I decided to include a little easter egg in this chapter.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Author's note: Sorry for the delay. I've had tons of work to do and it's not over. This chapter is a bit shorter, but I just didn't want to go back to Astrid immediately, otherwise some aspects of the story would have been completely out of place. Feel free to mention any typo/mistake you come across that I might have forgotten to correct, I'll be happy to edit the text**.**Special thanks to Ch4rms/Gumdrop Boo, Contraltissimo, EnihpledAmira, Calico(321), Navybrat121, Paxtofettel and Opaul for having helped me on improving my "swear words and insults" lexical field. ;-)  
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**Enjoy your reading! **

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Hiccup could have sworn that even the tiniest muscle in his body was screaming in pain and protest. He groaned, stretching as best as he could without falling from the croup of the horse he had been roughly put onto. Not even Astrid's intense training sessions had ever managed to make his body this sore, and that was definitely saying something. In his defense, travelling during an entire week with an almost empty stomach and an ever-growing lack of sleep certainly did not help to improve his physical condition. And yet, he supposed he could consider himself lucky, since the rest of the prisoners had to cover the whole distance by foot. A few of them had already died of exhaustion. Every time a body crumpled to the ground and remained desperately motionless, ravens descended from the sky and the beating of their wings resonated like a morbid oath as they prepared themselves to feast on the fresh corpses. Hiccup knew the Ciar Knights were not trying to do him a favor by allowing him to ride behind one of them. They had made it very clear every time they had stopped to take a break. They simply did not want him to slow them down even more because of his lack of a leg.

The young Viking felt a lump rise in his throat as he thought about Kiristi. She, too, was among the prisoners. She'd lost everything she had and yet he had seen her trying to take care of her fellow companions of misfortune whenever she could, tending to their injuries or simply closing the eyes of those who had passed on in a simple, tender, human gesture before the Ciar Knights kicked their lifeless bodies aside of the road they were travelling on and slapped her for good measure. Every time she was beaten up, Kiristi remained proud and refused to lower her gaze. And every time it happened, Hiccup felt his admiration for her increase. He promised to himself he would try everything he could to free her and reunite her with her son. He hoped Nolan was safe, wherever he was. He also hoped the child had forgiven him for having abandoned him like he did. Maybe that wasn't the right word. He had simply known he wouldn't have been able to protect the boy from the Ciar Knights. He could barely protect himself.

Hiccup looked up at the sky, and suddenly felt his heart tighten in pain. It was strange how abnormal the heavens seemed now that he couldn't be roaming them atop his best friend. The sky was his realm, it was his home, it was where he could surpass himself, but only if he had Toothless by his side. Just how he had managed to become this close to the Night Fury, he would never fully understand. He just knew that, without Toothless, he wasn't really himself.

The horses suddenly slowed down and Hiccup had to wonder why. He estimated they had covered about eighty miles since the massacre of Teileann. They had crossed lakes, forests and highlands. The one thing he had been able to truly appreciate since the very moment Holin had decided to spare his life was, without the slightest doubt, the impossible magnificence of the landscapes they travelled. Ireland was incredibly wild and beautiful, no matter the place. When they had ridden along the coast, he'd had an unrestricted view of the sea and had allowed himself to admire the never-ending dance of the waves above which seagulls flew free. The wind was just as invigorating as it was on Berk, but it felt just a little bit warmer. It blew almost constantly and Hiccup enjoyed the way it caressed his face or the nape of his neck, as if to benevolently remind him with each shiver that ran through his body that he was still alive and that with life came hope. Sunshine and rain succeeded to each other in ridiculously rapid shifts and Hiccup had lost count of the rainbows he'd seen so far. When the sun rose over the horizon, radiating a divine aura and illuminating the seemingly endless meadows whose grass was so bright it was almost painful for the eye to look at and every single droplet of dew shined like a liquid and ephemeral diamond, Hiccup felt like he could escape -if only for a moment- the dreadful reality of the situation he was in. The sunsets, too, were privileged moments. When the last beams of the sun fired up the sky and enhanced the radiant outlines of clouds that were as dark as the scales of a Night Fury, Time itself seemed to stop and behold the glory of the moment. Hiccup wished Astrid could see those sunsets. He knew she would have loved them.

Hiccup sighed. He really had to learn to stop thinking about Astrid for now. It wasn't helping. The man he was holding onto pulled on the reins and began murmuring soothing words to his mount. The horse's hooves instantly ceased hammering on the ground and the powerful animal trotted for a moment before slowing down even more and eventually marching. Hiccup cocked his head to the side to see what was actually happening. Several men were gathering around Holin who seemed busy giving orders at the top of the hill they were ascending. Peering at the horizon, he could see several volutes of grey smoke rise in the sky. They were numerous and could possibly signal the presence of human activity. His curiosity piqued, Hiccup took the risk to ask the soldier in front of him what was going on. The man glared at him above his shoulder, as if unbelieving that a bloody prisoner had actually dared to address him directly. Hiccup didn't care. Astrid's glares were much more intimidating anyway.

"We've reached our destination. Dún Fionnachaidh is just below the hill. And when we get there," the man spat angrily, "I'll have the pleasure of throwing you down my horse!"

"Gods, I'm _so _scared."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. I said nothing."

The man glared again, but eventually decided on dropping the matter. Hiccup fell silent again until he could finally gaze at the town he was being led to. He couldn't prevent himself from letting out a gasp. He had never, ever seen anything like it. From what he could see, Dún Fionnachaidh was almost five times the size of Berk. Under other circumstances, he supposed he would have loved to explore the city. But right now, the only thought that came to his mind was how on Midgard he would ever be able to escape from a huge place he knew next to nothing about.

* * *

The city of Dún Fionnachaidh had never been an independent kingdom, just a fishing port and commercial centre as well as a gateway to Ireland that slowly grew in size and importance, until the Ciar Knights had decided that they needed new headquarters. Soon after, city walls were erected and the "unnecessary" buildings were cleared away, giving Dún Fionnachaidh three main roads, one heading to the east, the second to the south and the last one to the north, leading to Killahoey Strand. Across the bay from Dún Fionnachaidh was Corrán Binne, a peninsula whose cliffs sheltered the city from the ocean. Any potential invaders could thus be spotted early enough for Dún Fionnachaidh to prepare its defense strategy.

Hiccup looked all around him, trying to take in his surroundings as fast as possible, urging his memory to notice the tiniest details that he might have to use as check points. While the city was crowded since an important market had been set up, occupying the empty space and the nearby streets, where craftsmen and traders passing through Dún Fionnachaidh offered their wares and services from stalls to anyone who could afford them, people were unexpectedly quiet as the procession of Ciar Knights and prisoners made its way through them. The black-armored soldiers were quickly losing patience and barked orders to break through the crowd. The citizens had the good sense to get out of the way as quickly as possible. Around the central square of the city groups of curious passers-by popped up like mushrooms after the rain. They watched strangely as the Ciar Knights passed by them and kept whispering agitatedly to each other, often glancing up at the sky. Hiccup easily sensed those people were afraid of something and he followed their gaze. His eyes landed on a peculiar sight. There, near the centre of Dún Fionnachaidh stood a tower, proud and strange. More than a hundred feet high, it had numerous openings all around its frontage. From each one of those openings, a long pole stuck out menacingly. At the top of the tower was a wide balcony that, the young Viking supposed, enabled anyone who stepped on it to have a clear view of the whole city. Last but not least, one could distinguish the shape of a stylized raven whose wings were spread wide carved above the imposing double door. Hiccup suddenly had the bad feeling this was the place the Ciar Knights were leading the prisoners to. He wanted to ask someone what exactly the tower was – a prison? A tribunal? - but it was obvious no one would answer his question. There was a climate of fear and oppression in the air that he didn't like one bit. So, he kept quiet until the horse he was sitting on left the procession and headed for another direction.

"Where are we going?"

"_I _am not going _anywhere_. But _you_ are going where General Holin wants you to go and I can't wait to get rid of your sorry ass."

"I kind of figured."

"Meaning you're actually smarter than you look."

"Thanks… I guess."

The soldier did not reply anything this time and whether it was out of annoyance or lack of repartee Hiccup did not know. They were entering another part of the city now, where most of the buildings could be considered industrial. The passed by several stables, a carpenter's shop and a leather tanner's one. Hiccup picked up scents he was familiar with. He could smell sweat, sawdust, fire, soot and molting metal. Eyes quickly scanning the area, he suddenly realized the tower he'd seen before was actually very close. They had simply skirted round it. Looking up, he tried once more to determine what exactly it was that he found menacing about it, but a hand brutally seized him by the front of the tunic Kiristi had given him and threw him off the horse without any kind of warning. He landed flat on his face, cursing the way pain violently shot through his leg under his breath and, judging by the noise, after having knocked down several metallic objects in the process.

"What is _this_?" A new voice hollered above him, and he could hear pure disgust and disdain drip in the simple way the last word had been pronounced. Propping himself up on his elbows, Hiccup looked around him and immediately realized where he was. A forge. Finally something he could relate to. That was nice. Groaning, he sat up very slowly to avoid damaging his wound more than it already was and rubbed his leg in what he knew was a lame attempt to soothe it. He needed water and bandages. But what was drawing his attention right now was not _his_ leg, but the long, curved, _feminine_ pair of legs that he was facing. He blinked, looking up slowly and finding he had trouble believing what he was seeing. There, just in front of him, looking him up and down as if he were some disgusting slug stood a woman, tall and thin and well muscled.

"_This_, as you say," the Ciar Knight who'd sent Hiccup flying for a couple of milliseconds replied smugly, "Is the help you've been asking for. Courtesy of General Holin."

She looked at the soldier as if he'd grown a second head. "You have got to be kidding me! I asked Holin for an apprentice, not some sort of scrawny kid who can't even stand up by himself!" She seethed angrily, only getting a snicker in response. Hiccup felt an almost irrepressible need to thank the both of them for summing that up but wisely decided this wasn't the time to be mouthy.

"Well, you're not getting anything better," the soldier quipped as he made his horse turn round, "So he will have to make do. Get used to it."

And with that, he gave the animal its head and rapidly disappeared around the corner of the street, leaving the woman shouting furious curses at him. When she spun round to face the young man who was still sitting a bit awkwardly on the ground, he seemed to think the wooden ceiling of her forge was extraordinarily interesting to look at. There was a moment of silence during which nothing could be heard but the roaring fire. Hiccup noticed the woman's hair were the same color as Astrid's, albeit much shorter- which probably was safer when working in a forge. The Gods only knew how many times Gobber's moustaches had been set on fire so far. But the one thing that _really _piqued Hiccup's curiosity was the fact that the woman in front of him was wearing some sort of grey veil over her face, preventing him from seeing her features, except for her piercing, aquamarine eyes.

He did not have much time to think about it though, for she had picked him up by the front of his tunic and dragged him to a bench situated in one corner of the forge. He hopped as best as he could to keep up with her angry pace but it really was difficult. She pushed him onto the bench, glaring at him while her hands came to rest on her hips.

"What's your name?" She demanded none too gently.

Hiccup swallowed thickly. Now that he had told Tiernan his name was Feren Rurikson, he knew he had to stick to that identity or his cover would be completely ruined.

"Feren. Feren Rurikson. I, uh…know the way of the forge. I've been learning since I was a kid."

Her eyes did not betray any emotion but supreme anger. He hoped she wouldn't pour her wrath on him. Enduring Astrid was one thing, but a _female _blacksmith? He didn't want to find out what kind of punishments she might come up with.

"Alright, Feren, listen up and listen well, because I hate repeating myself. I don't care who you are or where you come from. I don't care about your past and even less about your future. You're under my orders now and I while I can't imagine why Holin picked a cripple like you to help me instead of someone more capable, I expect you to carry my instructions out to the letter, missing leg or not. Daydream here and you'll find a knife in your throat. Schedule is simple: work from dawn to dusk. You will find all the customers' orders in that book over there," she pointed to the opposite side of the forge, where a desk had been set up, "and you can sleep in the backroom. I provide the meals, and believe me they're horrible. Most importantly, damage a single blade in here and I'll make sure your blood flows down the streets of this city. Any questions?"

Hiccup shook his head, feeling like it was better not to talk at all.

"Good. The name's Aileene by the way." She added matter-of-factly whilst reaching for something below the bench Hiccup was sitting on. She seemed to find what she wanted and suddenly shoved a rudimental peg leg into the young man's arms.

"Put it on."

He did as he was told, not really wanting to argue with her. The moment there was a contact between his stump and the fake appendage, Hiccup's eyes closed in agony. He felt like his leg had been set on fire. Gritting his teeth to prevent any sound from escaping his mouth, he could only acknowledge just how wrong this prosthesis was for him but he had no choice but to cope with it. Working with a crutch was out of question.

"Okay?" Aileene inquired, but there truly wasn't the tiniest hint of worry and/or concern in her voice. He nodded.

"Well, what are you waiting for, then? Get to work!"

And so it was that without any kind of transition and a still mostly empty stomach, Hiccup made his way to the press where an apron and a pair of gloves were waiting for him. He would show them all how good a blacksmith he was. His freedom depended on it. At least he would have regular meals from now on. That was a welcome change, he thought, lifting a hammer in the air and bringing it down on a dagger with a deadly precision.

From the corner of her eye, Aileene observed the young man she had been forced to 'hire' as her apprentice. She supposed he was about ten years younger than her. But as she surveyed the work he was doing, hammering away, oblivious to his surroundings, she knew he had been telling the truth when he'd said he knew how to work in a forge. He looked like he was efficient, precise, deft and quick. The word 'apprentice' did not really apply to him. Judging by his name, he came from the north. But what business exactly could a lone Viking have in Dún Fionnachaidh? She found it rather suspicious. But then again, time had taught her to care only about herself, the rest of the world be damned, bastards like Holin included. Feren did not look like he wanted to talk to her and it suited her just fine.

The world did not care about her. Why would she care about the world?


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's note: First of all, many thanks to all of you who have been reviewing this story so far! I'm sending you big virtual hugs! =D Also, just to make sure it's clear, I would like to remind you that Astrid reached Ireland about a week after Hiccup. I'm pointing this out because I don't want you to get lost between the two different timelines.  
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**As usual, please feel free to point out typos/mistakes as long as you do it politely. ^^ I'm shutting up now, and hope you'll enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! The plot thickens! :-)**

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**Astrid knew she was finally getting close to Teilann when she spotted the dim glow of campfires softly illuminating the night sky. She had lost time building the splint for the corpses, let alone dragging them onto it and making sure they would stay there. As for the survivor, he had gone completely mute ever since she had bandaged his wounds and managed to somehow put him on her horse. Frankly, she couldn't care less. She really wasn't in the mood to start chatting with someone who might possibly be somehow involved in Hiccup's abduction. Plus, the man needed whatever strength he had left and talking would have been an unnecessary strain in his situation. She just followed the direction he had indicated her, watching as the dark shape of the sea-cliffs grew ever higher whilst she guided her horse and its load down the slope that would lead her to the destroyed village. She realized she could smell smoke from where she was and thus decided it was time for her to gather as much information as she could before facing the Ciar Knights. Astrid glanced over her shoulder at the man she had saved and felt a bolt of satisfaction surge through her. He, too, had obviously noticed how close to Teilann they were.

"What's your name?" Astrid's voice suddenly piped up.

"Quinn. Yours?"

"Astrid. What actually happened to you guys?"

Quinn did not reply at first, preferring to watch without watching the back of the blonde woman who was bringing him back to his comrades and captain. He glanced behind him once, feeling a lump form in his throat upon seeing the motionless bodies of his dead companions being dragged on the splint. He closed his eyes, images of the ambush immediately assaulting his mind. He could still hear the gruesome gurgling noises Kiel produced when one of his assailants' blades had found its way through his Adam apple.

The blonde woman walking in front of the horse he was sitting on cleared her throat, signaling she was still waiting for him to give her an answer.

"We were attacked by the Thousand Wolves. They were about twenty, maybe more. There was nothing we could do. Those bastards were led by a bloody female. I didn't see her face. Her voice sounded young, though. I swear by God that one day," he seethed, "I'll make her pay for her crimes!"

"Whatever you say. But instead of planning your potential revenge, maybe you should focus on getting well first. Just saying."

Quinn opened his mouth to respond but was suddenly distracted by a high-pitched whistle that suddenly tore the night's silence apart. His head jerked up almost as fast as Astrid's. Her right hand instinctively coiled around Dagmar's grip, ready to unsheathe the sword at any moment. Narrowing her eyes, she peered at the horizon and distinguished the respective shapes of two horses and their riders galloping at full speed. Astrid immediately came to the conclusion that there must have been a lookout hidden somewhere, and it was he who had whistled to signal her presence. It wasn't long until she realized the riders were _charging_. And while she definitely wasn't afraid of them, this certainly wasn't the time to show off her battle skills. She turned round to address the soldier she'd saved, impatience plastered on her features.

"Well, Quinn, if these guys are on your side," she informed him ridiculously calmly, "_now_ would be a good time to tell them to _stop_."

* * *

Looking around her, Astrid observed the pitiful, desolate state the village of Teilann had been left in. Had Vikings raided the place, they wouldn't have done a better job. The cottages – or rather what remained of them – were completely destroyed. Indistinct heaps of soot and ash were scattered on the ground, and some of the former rafters were still glowing dimly as they exhaled dark, thick smoke. The Ciar Knights had set up some tents here and there in the meantime, but those looked incredibly out of place amidst the ruins of the village. A particularly awful smell hovered in the air, and Astrid felt her stomach lurch in protest at the olfactory aggression. She tried to find the source of the smell and couldn't help but grimace upon realizing it came from a pile of countless corpses that were being burnt unceremoniously.

Soldiers rushed past her to help the man she'd brought back to this place whilst others were busy cutting the ropes that she'd used to tie the corpses to the splint. Most men were busy uttering hateful words as the news of their fallen companions spread through Teilann like wildfire. They were not paying the slightest attention to her until Quinn told one of them she was to be thanked for her help. The man turned round to look at her. He was wearing a clear armor that contrasted with the other soldiers' ones as well as with his pitch black hair and goatee. His eyes were a mix of dark blue and grey. His right eyebrow was strangely cut in two and another scar travelled across his cheek. About the same height as Hiccup, he slowly made his way to where she stood, carrying himself quite regally, and Astrid had to admit that she would have been lying if she said he wasn't a handsome man. Judging by his attitude, he most probably was these men's leader. He came to a stop in front of her, and their gazes locked for a moment before he eventually decided to speak up.

"My name's Tiernan, captain of the Ciar Knights. Let me thank you for having brought my men back here, although I hope you're not thinking I am going to reward you in return."

She lifted a perfectly curved eyebrow at his remark. Now _that_ was a strange way to thank someone if she ever saw one.

"I don't want any reward…but I want you to allow me to travel with you."

"Perfect. Thanks again for you trouble and-Wait. What did you say?"

"I said I'd like to travel with you to wherever you're going."

The captain stared at her incredulously for a couple of seconds, and then burst out laughing, much to Astrid's displeasure. She crossed her arms over her chest, giving him her coldest glare until he managed to calm down, tears of laughter still escaping his eyes.

"Come on…You're a woman." He pointed out, obviously amused.

"Thank you very much, I hadn't noticed. So what?"

"A woman's role isn't to fight. And a woman's place definitely isn't amongst soldiers. I don't want my men to start losing their minds over your pretty butt."

"But-

"No buts. I really am most grateful for what you did, but I can't grant you your request. Go now, and may God watch over your steps."

He gave her one last amused smile before turning round and going back to where Quinn had been laid. Astrid couldn't believe either her eyes or her ears. The nerve of that guy! Fury bubbled up inside her, threatening to invade every fiber of her body. Oh, he wanted her to go away? Well, she was going to show him she didn't exactly agree to play by his rules. Cracking her knuckles for effect, Astrid followed Tiernan with every ounce of determination she could summon. She was just about to grab his shoulder pad when another man stepped in front of her, preventing her from reaching her target and staring contemptuously down at her, smirking smugly.

"He told you to clear off, woman."

Astrid bent just in time to dodge the punch he sent towards her face, but not fast enough to avoid his knee as it collided with her stomach. Blood sprang to her lips and she staggered back for a couple of seconds. Then, fully realizing what had just happened, she straightened herself and spat the bitter, scarlet liquid that had filled her mouth. She then calmly flexed her knees, positioning her feet slightly apart, and motioned for her opponent to come closer.

"And I say 'No', numbskull. C'mon, don't make me wait."

The man's eyes widened, and then narrowed as he unsheathed his sword. She did the same, her fingers firmly seizing Dagmar and bringing the fabulous blade in front of her face. Out of the corner of her eye, Astrid saw the rest of the soldiers slowly forming a circle around them, preparing themselves to enjoy the show. Some of them started cheering for their comrade, telling him to show her what Ciar Knights were made of. Others wanted the fight to end at first blood. All of their faces reflected the excitement they felt, the only exception being their leader who remained perfectly impassive.

This, Astrid understood, was a test.

Her opponent lashed out without any kind of warning, and both swords slammed against each other. It didn't take long for Astrid to determine that her current enemy was striking unmethodically, preferring to use sheer strength. She smirked to herself; her skills, she knew, were infinitely superior. She faked a high lunge, and then thrust at the soldier's midsection. He deflected her sword point and responded with a swipe at her legs. She jumped back deftly, easily avoiding being slashed and charged forward again. The clanging of the two swords hitting rang through the air, matching the sound of the crowd cheering on their respective favorite. Astrid noticed with a sense of satisfaction that some of the Ciar Knights were now supporting her.

Her opponent suddenly sent a wild horizontal slice and his blade came inches away from her throat. She blocked it and tried to force it away while he aimed for the opposite. She knew he was naturally stronger than her and that relying on pure strength would exhaust her fast. She had to be smarter. Suddenly, one of her training sessions with Hiccup resurfaced in her mind, and she remembered how Stoick's son had once managed to break her concentration in a similar situation. She grinned wickedly, pushing with all her might against the blade of her adversary.

"Why are you smiling like that?" The man asked her angrily through gritted teeth. She conspicuously pretended looking past him and looked up at him with another calculated smile.

"You should watch your steps."

Naively, he looked above his shoulder to see what she was talking about. And realized only a moment too late the trap he'd just fallen into. Taking advantage of the situation, Astrid threw his broadsword back with one last surge of effort. The soldier backpedaled, taken aback by the unexpected move. She raced towards him with more simple attacks so to make him think she was getting weaker. He parried them easily, not seeing through her plan. It went on for several minutes. Both fighters began showing a strain. Astrid's chest was heaving and a bead of sweat slid down the soldier's temple. The blonde Viking instinctively knew it was the moment she'd been waiting for. She quickly took a step back, enough to be able to extend Dagmar fully, and performed an advanced disarming maneuver almost too fast for the eye to see. The soldier's sword dropped to his feet and the rest of the Ciar Knights _oohed _in unison.

The man roared furiously and bent down to pick it up, but Astrid leaped forward and kicked it away. Eyes narrowed, he reached for his knife. Before he could strike though, she had her own sword point inches away from his unprotected chest.

He dropped the knife in rage and stepped aside, only to bound forward and barrel into the blonde woman who was challenging him, making her drop her own sword under the sheer force of the impact. For a couple of seconds, he was on top, but she punched him in the face and somehow managed to flip over, restraining him with difficulty. Using all of his masculine strength, the soldier wrenched himself free. Both fighters scrambled to their feet, slightly panting. Furious that he hadn't been able to defeat his opponent yet, he abruptly dove at Astrid's feet, bringing her back to the dirt floor. They struggled, rolling around, neither really using recognizable fighting moves. A cloud of sandy dust rose, obscuring the view of the onlookers. They all craned their necks but couldn't make out who was winning. Not even Tiernan could tear his eyes from the fight.

When the dust cleared, Astrid was on top. One knee was pinning the soldier by the chest, the other leg being used for balance. Her hands were planted on either of his shoulders. The soldier flailed his arms and legs violently but she only toughened her hold and, letting out a furious war cry, eventually delivered one final, powerful punch in his face, effectively knocking him out.

The silence that fell then felt absolutely surreal. Astrid went limp, letting her muscles relax and began breathing in and out audibly.

She got up slowly, gracefully. She walked over to where Dagmar had fallen and picked it up, loving the way her sword perfectly fitted her hand. Only then did she turn to face the crowd, smugness creeping into her features, and soon dominating her face. She smirked at the captain of the Ciar Knights whilst he kept staring at her unbelievingly, as did most of his men. Theatrically, Astrid silently took long strides to where her horse stood –she thought she would have to find a suitable name for him soon- and put her left foot in the stirrup, deliberately ignoring the whispers surrounding her and silently counting to three.

"Hey! Wait!"

She smiled to herself victoriously, setting her foot on the ground again and turning round to face the Ciar Knights' captain once more. She waited until he drew level with her and then crossed her arms in mocked exasperation.

"What now?"

"Where did you learn to fight? Who are you?"

"The name's Astrid Hofferson."

Tiernan felt his eyes widen. What was it with lonesome Vikings roaming Ireland on their own? However, he did not have much time to wonder about this for she kept speaking, her tone barely hiding her ever-growing annoyance.

"I thought you wanted me to go away. So," she pointed out seriously, "Why are you even talking to me right now?"

He shifted uneasily on his feet.

"Look, you just defeated one of my strongest men and that means you're more than capable of looking out for yourself."

"Looks like I'm up against a real mastermind."

He glared at her, clearly not appreciating the implied insult dripping from the sarcasm in her voice. The need to draw his sword and cut this woman's tongue surged to every part of his body, but he suppressed it almost instantly. After all, it was he who had refused to listen to her in the first place. And she'd just proved herself to be a great warrior, so maybe he could try to find an arrangement. He observed this woman, appreciating the slim yet strong figure she had. Her body was built for speed, and he had never seen anyone handle a sword the way she did. There was something truly mesmerizing about her piercing blue eyes and how her long golden bangs framed her beautiful face. Without truly realizing why he was doing it, he glanced at her mount and suddenly spotted the long spear that was secured to the saddle. His eyes widening in surprise, he violently pushed Astrid out of the way and grabbed the spear, examining it closely to convince himself he wasn't dreaming.

Just as she was about to order him to justify himself, he brandished the spear at arm's length and used his free hand to grab the front of her tunic.

"Where did you find this?" He demanded, his voice rising in volume with each word he pronounced.

"I suggest you let go of me _right now_, captain."

Furiously, he tightened his grip on her and stubbornly reiterated his question. **"I. Asked. Where. Did. You. Find. THIS?"**

The rest of the Ciar Knights collectively gasped as the blonde woman actually _slapped_ their leader, yanking herself free. Tiernan blinked, his anger vanishing in thin air while his hand dashed to his cheek to rub the spot she'd just hit.

"Careful, captain. I don't like repeating myself. As for this spear," Astrid added, gesturing to the weapon Tiernan was still holding, "I found it on a beach. End of the story."

"You…found it?"

"Yes. What's the big deal?"

Tiernan sighed, running a hand through his black hair and closing his eyes for a moment, as if reminiscing something. Then, motioning for Astrid to follow him, he sat next to the closest campfire. She imitated him, wondering what exactly she was about to learn. The dolphins had brought the spear to Berk along with Hiccup's pendant. There had to be a reason for this.

"As I have already told you, my name is Tiernan. I come from the village of Céasadh, which used to be in Brittany. When I was a little boy, I was happily living with my parents and my twin sister, Lytah. We were very close to each other. Life was hard but tranquil, and most villagers didn't even know how to handle weapons. But one day, when nobody was paying attention for there was too much work to do in the fields…Vikings came out of nowhere and raided Céasadh, mercilessly killing everyone in sight. I was only five years old when I saw my mother being raped several times in a row until they ripped her belly open. The bastards forced my father to watch before slicing his throat. Lytah and I tried to run away from this massacre, but a huge Viking prevented us from doing so. He forcefully scooped up Lytah on his shoulders. I remember the way she screamed at the top of her lungs, wanting me to protect her and struggling like one possessed. I tried hitting the man, but what harm could a five-year old boy possibly do him? He gave me this scar," Tiernan explained, running a finger on the scar that matched his right cheek, "and hit my skull with the pommel of his sword. I still don't know how I was able to survive that. When I regained consciousness, Lytah was gone. Céasadh was gone. There was blood everywhere, and Viking flags flapped in the wind like morbid trophies."

"What symbols did the flags sport?" Astrid asked, feeling like she needed to know. He looked at her suspiciously, but eventually shrugged.

"They were mostly white, and in the centre was the shape of a scarlet dragon being pierced by two crossed swords."

Astrid felt her heart miss a beat. There was no possible doubt; Tiernan was describing Berk's colors. She wracked her brain, hoping to remember some information about this particular raid, but nothing came to mind. It was strange, for if Céasadh truly had been raided that violently by the Berkians, she would probably have heard about it. Or at least read about it. She suddenly was very glad she hadn't told Tiernan where she came from.

"Anyway," the captain continued, "I promised myself that I would one day avenge my parents and the rest of my village. So when the Ciar Knights found me and, upon hearing my story, offered to take me in and raise me as one of them, I immediately accepted. I was brought to Ireland, and grew up in Dún Fionnachaidh, a city that is about eighty miles north-east from here."

"That still doesn't explain anything about the spear." Astrid pointed out. He shot her a bright smile, as if appreciating her interest in his story.

"This spear was a gift from an ancient druid to Lytah and although our parents strictly forbade her to use it since she was still so little, she treasured it. See that sort of bud at the end of the handle? It acts like it can…detect, for lack of a better word, her presence. I thought it had been destroyed in the raid. I have never lost hope of seeing my sister again, you see. I know she's alive. And now that I have finally retrieved this spear…I am sure I will find her."

"What do you mean, exactly, when you say it can _detect_ her presence?"

Tiernan got up and in one swift movement, planted the spear in the ground. Astrid could only stare incredulously as the bud actually opened like a fir cone, and then closed itself again.

"If the bud stays closed," Tiernan explained, grinning from ear-to-ear, "Then it means Lytah hasn't been around here. But if the bud opens like it just did, it means we're on the right track. The longer the bud remains open, the closer Lytah is. You have no idea how many times I cheated with this spear when Lytah and I played hide and seek."

Astrid allowed herself to chuckle softly at that and then took a moment to reflect. It was really odd. She was convinced the Ciar Knights were responsible for Hiccup's abduction, and yet Tiernan did not seem like someone who'd lead an attack for no reason. Then again, maybe it was all about revenge and making Berk pay for the supposed raid on the village of Céasadh. And yet…she couldn't help but feel like this wasn't the true reason behind all this. She got up to her feet and was about to reiterate her previous question about being allowed to travel with Tiernan and his men, but all thoughts went out of her head as she spotted her stallion neighing nervously. What could the animal possibly smell?

All previous questions forgotten, she silently unsheathed Dagmar yet again and made her way to where her horse was, stomping the ground with his hooves. She could hear some of the Ciar Knights imitating her and drawing level with her. She waited. Waited. Waited. And then she finally saw what was bothering her horse. Not far from where she stood were three other mounts, almost completely hidden by the night's cloak. Next to them was a tent that was slightly bigger than the others.

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

What do you keep in this tent?"

"Mostly food and spare weapons. Why?"

She did not reply and decidedly stepped forward.

* * *

Dalkor urged his men to work faster. He certainly did not want to face the Ciar Knights on his own, but robbing them of their food and weapons was worth taking the risk. Still, he knew the sooner they'd be done, the better he'd feel. When he and his two followers had arrived at Teilann earlier in the night, he had been pleasantly surprised to find out the Ciar Knights were busy watching a wrestle match of some sort. Infiltrating the devastated village had been a lot easier that way since the soldiers were not paying attention.

But now, Dalkor knew, the match must have come to an end for all the cheering had stopped a little while ago. And that meant he had to steal as much food as possible, and fast. At the back of his mind, he hoped Brian had succeeded in bringing Nolan to the friary of Ceartlár.

Shoving two more bags into the waiting arms of his men, Dalkor was about to give the signal to leave and retreat into the shelter of the forest when a figure unexpectedly irrupted into the tent. A _feminine _figure.

"Stay where you are and put these bags where you found them!" She cried out, and he instantly heard the light accent in her voice that told him she wasn't from Ireland. He snickered in response. He'd come too far to stop now. He knew he was doing what was right, and there was no way a bloody female would prevent him from reaching his goal. Too many lives depended on it. He drew his sword.

"Get out of my way or I'll make you." He ordered instantly, his own voice as cold as the steel of his blade.

"You obviously don't know who you're up against."

"Ha!" Dalkor exclaimed, his face still hidden under his hood. Suddenly, he lunged forward, muttering, "We'll see about that." He thought he came dangerously close to cutting the woman's shoulder, but missed by several inches. Surprised, he lunged again and couldn't believe it when she parried the attack, following up with an advanced riposte.

Both of them took a step back, standing still for a second. Astrid glanced at the center of her opponent's chest. He didn't seem to notice, but he definitely caught the way the blonde warrior's arm brusquely tensed. Dalkor stepped back instinctively and Astrid's next attack failed entirely, or so it seemed at first. Because before he could turn around and recompose himself he felt the cold flat of a blade pressing against his cheek and tearing his hood apart.

Astrid stared for a moment at the man's completely astonished face. This only served to anger him more, though, and he sidestepped away before turning into a roundabout but it was already too late. The woman had just managed to make his sword cleave through the air and land several feet away, completely out of reach. Dalkor felt a bead a sweat travel down his face as he gazed down at the sword the woman was holding at arm's length, its sharp point making contact with his privates.

He peered down at her, eyes squinting in response to the pain. "Are you _serious_?"

Astrid grinned wickedly before giving him an answer she knew he wouldn't like, "No one said we were fighting fair."

The incredulity that painted itself on her opponent's face was almost too much for Astrid not to burst into unrestrained laughter. But she could hear the voices of the Ciar Knights getting closer, and she didn't want to kill this man she knew next to nothing about. Besides, she couldn't let Tiernan think that her helping him would become a habit.

Astrid lowered Dagmar. Dalkor stared at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"Go," she told him urgently, "Whoever you are, go before it's too late."

He glared at her, pointing an accusing finger at her and swearing he would make her pay for this humiliation, but he didn't need to be told twice and hurriedly rushed out of the tent, running as fast as he could until he was able to jump onto his horse's back and disappear into the night along with the two men he'd brought with him.

Astrid observed the retreating shadows of the three horses when Tiernan drew level with her, barking orders to his men, wanting them to chase after the thieves.

"You didn't stop them," he shouted, obviously beside himself. "For God's sake, _why_ didn't you stop them?"

She turned round to face him and crossed her arms in front of her chest, cocking her head to one side.

"I am not one of your men, captain, and I suggest you don't forget it. That means I have no obligation to carry out your orders. I did not stop those men because I had no reason to. Now, I am willing to help you search for your sister, but you have to let me travel with you in return. So," she asked whilst extending her hand for him to shake, "Do we have a deal?"

"You still haven't told me _why_ you want to travel with us."

"I am looking for someone and I don't know this land well enough to travel on my own."

"Who are you looking for?"

"Again, that is none of your business. Do we have a deal, captain?"

He sighed once more, and then reached to shake hands with her. "Deal," he confirmed, "But please call me Tiernan."

"Alright."

"You know, you're the second Viking I've seen around here in a matter of weeks."

Astrid's head jerked up. It couldn't be. Had Tiernan actually seen Hiccup? _Her _Hiccup? She had to know. "Oh, really? Who was the first one?"

She hoped her voice wasn't betraying her emotions.

"A certain Feren Rurikson, if I remember correctly. Is he the person you're looking for?"

Astrid felt disappointment mercilessly invade every part of her being. It would have been too good to be true. "No," she replied, trying to sound as neutral and disinterested as possible, "No, he is not."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: Hi guys! =)**

**I know, I know, it's been an awfully long time since I last updated this story, which I have not abandoned by the way, and it is only right that you get to know why…**

**I'm sorry. **

**I've had a ton of things to do. As far as I'm concerned, the past months have been a really awful period of trial and anguish for me, physically and psychologically. Partly because I had so much work to do (national orals to take, the exams of my last semester at university, planning my 8 months-long trip to Ireland...) and mostly because my Dad died on Friday, May, 13th. He was only 66.**

**I'm sure you will understand that writing was the last thing on my mind, given the circumstances. **

**Again, I am sorry for the wait. I am really, really sorry.**

**But, at the same time, I am happy that I finally felt like writing again, and I hope you will enjoy this new chapter that explains a lot more about…**

**I'll let you discover that on your own. =)**

* * *

It was a fine afternoon in Dún Fionnachaidh and Hiccup was grateful for it. Not that he minded the rain that much since he spent his days locked up in the furnace that was Aileene's forge, working from dawn to dusk, but he was perfectly aware that customers were definitely more numerous when the weather actually allowed them to step outside. And as it turned out, Aileene was also considerably less aggressive when she sold a lot of weapons and pieces of armor. The equation was quite simple, really.

Hiccup had been working with Aileene for a couple of weeks already and, much to her pleasant surprise –or so he thought- he had actually managed to find his place rather quickly and, thus, to forge and repair more swords, axes, daggers and whatever blade he was asked to work on than she could have imagined. As a result, the forge was considerably less messy and the customers' orders had shot up. The young man remembered Holin's words: the only way he would get his freedom back lay in proving his efficiency within the forge. And that was exactly what he intended to do.

Aileene and Hiccup worked in different parts of the forge, rarely speaking to one another and respectively minding their own business. As far as he was concerned, Hiccup was more than willing to get to know her better, but it seemed she only wanted him to work and shut up.

He hammered away, still cringing from time to time because of the way his rudimental wooden peg leg bit into the sensitive skin it should have protected instead of damaging it even more. Hiccup really wanted to make himself a new prosthesis but he knew that if he used Aileene's materials for his personal needs without her permission, he would end up more injured than he already was. Still, he would have to do something about the splinters that kept suppurating. It was mainly because of them that he was still unable to sleep as much as he would have wanted to. He was still exhausted, but at least the regular meals Aileene provided him with were starting to put some meat back onto his bones.

Hiccup's eyes and mind were now completely focused on the double edged blade he would soon need to retrieve from the roaring flames. He scrutinized the metal, waiting for the exact moment its color would turn from a light pink to a deep red. He smiled fondly. As far as he could remember, _this_ had always been one of his favorite moments in the process of sword-making. He loved these waves of changing colors that danced like liquid shadows and indicated the inner structure of the blade was getting hard enough to be hammered on without being broken. When he was satisfied with what he saw, Hiccup deftly seized the glowing blade and put it on top of his anvil when he realized, out of the corner of his eye, that a man was bending over the windowsill of the forge, apparently looking for something- or someone. Before he could utter a single word, however, Aileene had already made her way to where the man stood.

"You're early, Sorian." She told him bluntly. He smiled in return.

"And a good afternoon to you, too, Aileene."

"Yeah, yeah, hello, good to see you again, hope you're doing fine, whatever. Listen, I hate to be rude but I'm very busy and you told me not to expect you until a couple of days so-

"Would it really kill you to be nice for just a second? I did ride a few hundred miles to get back here, you know."

Just by looking at the way Aileene's shoulders rose aggressively with her breath, Hiccup knew she was already rolling her eyes in exasperation. Smiling, he couldn't help but chuckle as quietly as possible. Whoever that Sorian guy was, he liked him. Returning his attention to the blade he was working on so to not get caught by Aileene, Hiccup still pricked up his ears, deciding that a little eavesdropping wouldn't do any harm.

"Fine. What are you doing here?"

"The reason why I'm a few days early is that I've been sent to deliver," Sorian started explaining while taking a scroll that was kept closed with a wax seal out of the leather satchel he carried with him, "this message to General Holin. And judging by the price I've been paid to do that instead of attending the Gaillimh Races, believe you me, it must be awfully important."

"Oh. Do you know what the message is?"

"Haven't the foggiest. I was told not to have a flicker of a thought about opening it unless I wanted to die prematurely."

"Hmm. Well, if you want me to, I can deliver the message to Holin. He expects me to pay him a visit tonight."

"Oh, um, I'd rather not. Hey, don't give me that look! It's not that I don't trust you, Aileene, you know I do. I just don't want to get into trouble. Anyway, since I was in the area, I decided to drop by to see if you were done with the throwing knives I ordered."

The female blacksmith crossed her arms over her chest, cocking her head to the side and looking her interlocutor up and down as if he were asking for something especially monumental. "No, Sorian," she started telling him sternly, "your throwing knives are _not_ ready because you just so happen to be what one usually calls _early_, remember?"

"If you're talking about the twin throwing knives that were supposed to be finished in, like, three days," Hiccup's voice suddenly piped up as he emerged from the back of the forge, wiping his right hand clean on his apron and carrying said weapons in the other, "I actually finished them last night, sheathes and all. Here you go," he stated with a proud smile upon handing them over to their new owner, "I hope they will satisfy you."

A rather awkward silence fell upon the building as Hiccup observed the respective reactions of the man and woman in front of him. Whereas Sorian looked delighted, the glare Aileene was giving her 'apprentice' was making the young Viking regret his words already. But before he could say anything else, though, Sorian burst into unrestrained joy after having taken a first look at his purchase, positively beaming.

"By everything that is sacred in this world and the other, Aileene, they're wonderful! Would you look at these grips! And how incredibly light the blades are! I swear I haven't seen such little beauties in _years_! You've really outdone yourself this time…," he finished in a whisper, running an appreciative finger over the smooth, unstained and shiny steel of the knives. "And may I ask who this nice young fella is?"

Hiccup smiled. "My name is-

"His name's Feren Rurikson, he happens to be my _apprentice_ – and nobody asked me whether _I _wanted him to work here or not - and _apparently_," she spat angrily, "he still needs to learn that he's not _expected_ to deal with customers _I am already _dealing with!"

"I just wanted to-

"I don't care! What the hell are you waiting for? Get back to work!"

"But-

"Oh, come on, Aileene; don't be so harsh on him. The poor lad only wanted to be nice." Sorian interjected, smiling heartwarmingly and extending his hand for Hiccup to shake. The latter took it with his trademark crooked grin.

"Thanks. Nice to meet you, Sir."

"It's a pleasure, Feren, and I thank you for your excellent work. Mind you," Sorian added with a hint of humor in his voice, "It's no wonder, considering the amazing tutor you got yourself."

Hiccup chuckled politely and, upon taking a brief look at Aileene who looked like she was about to bite his head off, quickly added that she was indeed an excellent teacher. He was hoping to get her to calm down a little bit but he was suddenly extremely surprised to notice that not only had her anger vanished in thin air but she also appeared completely incredulous, looking at him as if he were insane and falling utterly silent while Sorian kept talking.

"Ah, little marvels those knives are, that's for sure. Oh, by the way, here's the gold I owe you," he said, gently putting a reasonably large leather pouch on the windowsill, the content of which tinkling in a rather pleasant way, "And let me tell you that I have rarely been this happy to spend my money."

Since Aileene was making no move to grab the pouch, Hiccup seized it gently and put it immediately where the other coins they had earned that day were.

"Before I forget about it, Aileene, have you heard about the prisoners that have been sent to the Tower?"

Still looking at her apprentice as if she had just seen a ghost, the blonde woman looked up to meet Sorian's slightly darker gaze. She nodded, not really wanting to talk about that particular topic. "Yes…Rumor has it that they have already faced the Ravens' Tribunal. Do you think they will all be put in the Tower?"

_There it is again,_ Hiccup thought. _It seems I was right. That tower must be the place where Kiristi and the others have been taken to._ Knowing this was the occasion he had been waiting for to get more information, he didn't hesitate for a second.

"Excuse me, but what exactly _is _that tower you're talking about? I mean, I know what the tower looks like and where it is, but what is its purpose?"

Both Sorian's and Aileene's faces grew suddenly very somber. The female blacksmith urged the man beside her to come inside the forge and brusquely closed the window behind the three of them. It was all Hiccup needed to see to understand he'd touched a nerve. And when Sorian spoke again, a bead of sweat was showing on his large forehead and his voice was nothing more than an agitated, extremely nervous whisper.

"You shouldn't ask that kind of questions out loud, young man. The Tower is home to one of the most disgusting 'spectacles' one can witness in Dún Fionnachaidh."

"A public toilet?"

"No, and if I were you, I'd avoid making cheap jokes like that."

"Sorry. Just trying to improve the atmosphere."

"Feren, the Tower is where most prisoners are sent after having faced the Ravens' Tribunal. It is also where General Holin lives. But mostly, the Tower is the place of execution for many hundreds. A temple of death. Scenes of living people forced to sit on those bloody perches and hang on for dear life until they have no strength left and fall from dozens of feet to crash and quite literally explode on the ground where their bodies are to be left until the crows have nothing left to devour."

Hiccup suddenly felt awfully sick.

_Kiristi…_

Hopping away as fast as he could, he grabbed an empty bucket and bent over it while his stomach violently rejected the images that had just formed into his mind. When he managed to actually open his eyes again, he somehow realized he was lying on the floor of the forge, his body still shaking slightly from the remaining spasms of disgust and horror. He could see the anxious face of Sorian hovering above him whilst he felt a pair of hands snake under his arm pits and lift his upper-body to urge him into a sitting position.

"I'm sorry lad. I didn't know you'd react like that upon hearing my words."

"No…No…It's just…-

"You should leave, Sorian," Aileene ordered, her tone indicating she wouldn't take no for an answer, "I'll take care of this."

"But, Aileene, this fella here is-

"Whatever happened to duty?"

"Now that's an excellent question."

"Sorian, I'm being serious! What about that urgent message you're carrying with you? I thought you were supposed to deliver it as soon as possible!"

"Oh, right. I'll just, um…I'll get going, then."

"Yes, that would be best."

Hiccup and Aileene watched silently as Sorian made his way to the door of the forge and opened it, but not before taking one last look upon his shoulder. "I also wanted to inform you that another rumor has it that the Thousand Wolves attacked the friary of Ceartlár. Again, I should add. Anyway, thanks a million for the knives, Aileene. Farewell to you both."

"Goodbye, Sorian."

It wasn't until Aileene was completely sure that he couldn't hear them anymore that she moved from her spot behind her apprentice's back to kneel in front of him, her icy eyes staring at him as if they could tear his very soul apart. Hiccup felt a shiver running down his spine.

"Let me see your leg."

Hiccup's green eyes grew wide with genuine fear and he immediately lowered his gaze to see why she was asking such a thing. He felt his throat constrict painfully. His left leg was bleeding again. The wound must have been reopened when he'd started hopping to grab that bucket. Judging by what little he could see, the wooden peg leg had torn through the fragile skin of his injury. He almost felt the need to throw up again. When Aileene's fingers lifted the fabric of his pants to get a better look, he involuntarily recoiled, much to her impatience.

"Feren, stop being such an idiot and _let me see_ your leg unless you want me to knock you out first!"

She sounded so much like Astrid and she didn't even know it, Hiccup thought. He calmed down, almost unconsciously; it was the only thing he could do to help her. He utterly hated depending on someone else to attend to his leg but his hands were still shaking and, he noticed when touching his forehead, he felt terribly cold; something he realized with his usual sarcasm must have been kind of an exploit when one was sitting next to the fire of a forge. The fact that he must have been feverish did not even cross his mind until Aileene pointed it out for him. Helping her apprentice to his feet and allowing him to use her for support, she led him outside the furnace and into the narrow streets after having made sure that nothing could catch fire within the smithy.

When the both of them stopped walking, Hiccup felt as if his body itself was entirely made of steel. He couldn't remember for the life of him just how they had ended up in front of what appeared to be Aileene's dwelling-place. He was only trying to concentrate on preventing himself from slipping into unconsciousness.

And when Aileene's voice started to resound like a far-away echo all around him, he knew he had failed.

* * *

When he came around again –and to be quite honest, he was getting really fed up with blacking out every now and then - he was lying in a rather comfortable bed, very different from the one he usually slept in, in the backroom of the forge. He looked all around him, trying to recognize his surroundings. He didn't. The room he was in was pretty spacious and several windows allowed a fair amount of light to illuminate it. The soft, golden, orange glow that allowed him to see particles of light floating in the air indicated it must have been sundown. Next to the bed was a small wooden table on which some clear water and clean bandages had been put. Looking down, Hiccup realized with a start that he was wearing a new, clean tunic. Remembering his leg with a jab of fear, he cautiously lifted the blanket of wool that covered most of his body…only to let a very much relieved sigh escape his lips. The wound had been cleaned properly and it wasn't throbbing so much anymore.

However, he mused, the fact that he wasn't wearing anything on his lower body except for his undergarments unsettled him a little. He was starting to ponder about where on earth his clothes were when the door was brusquely kicked open by none other than Aileene, carrying a wooden trail on which _something_ smelled incredibly good. The blonde woman grumbled as she slammed the door shut again, mumbling incomprehensibly. Then, glancing in the opposite direction, she spotted her apprentice fumbling unsuccessfully with the blanket and sheets of the bed as he tried to cover his body in a very self-conscious attitude that, had it not been for the more than serious circumstances, she might have found endearing. But right now, he just looked stupid.

"For God's sake, Feren, you could be my son! Would you stop acting like a prepubescent idiot? It's not like I haven't seen naked men before, you know."

He knew, but in all honestly, he simply didn't know what he could reply to that. So he just watched, his eyes as wide as they could be, as she came to where he was, putting the wooden trail on the small table in a manner that was neither brutal nor gentle. And then, he realized she was getting closer to him.

"Hey, hey, what are you going to- Hey! I refuse that-

"You have nothing to refuse, just shut your mouth already."

Definitely not waiting for his permission for she knew her apprentice would freak out about it, Aileene lifted the blanket under which he was trying to hide so she could see his leg, blatantly ignoring the young man's protests about her intruding on his private space. She allowed one corner of her mouth to curve up; the wound had stopped bleeding and she could see no sign of pus or any other body fluid that would indicate Feren was still in danger. Satisfied with her work, she let go of the blanket and let him cover himself up so clumsily that she couldn't help but chuckle.

Hiccup froze. He was pretty sure he had just heard Aileene _laugh_. At his expense, yes, but the sheer discovery of it was so unexpected and incredible that he instantly forgot about his self-consciousness. It was the first time in weeks he'd actually seen a positive expression crossing her features…so to speak, since she was always wearing the odd veil that prevented him from seeing her face.

Again, he wondered about that because the other women he had seen in the streets of Dún Fionnachaidh as they passed by the forge did not wear such a strange piece of clothing. Judging by the rest of Aileene's body, he could tell she was a beautiful woman, so why would she want to hide her face behind a veil?

Aileene motioned for her apprentice to move just a little bit so she could sit on the edge of the bed.

"It's a nasty wound you've got there, Feren. You should have told me it was getting infected."

Hiccup couldn't believe his ears. Did the female blacksmith actually _care_ about him? He observed her for a moment, and he thought she looked a bit nervous. It might have been his imagination, but he was almost sure she was trying to find the words she was going to use next. He chose to keep silent, wondering what exactly what was bothering her but not wanting to rush her at the same time.

He didn't have to wait that much.

"Why did you tell Sorian I was an excellent teacher? I haven't taught you _anything_ and I haven't exactly been nice to you those past few weeks."

Hiccup smiled.

"Well, you did teach me that a woman could be a blacksmith, and an amazing one at that."

She frowned, looking like she wasn't convinced at all. "You are an unusual young man, Feren. You and I both know that you're a better smith than I am. Yet, you act as if you were really my apprentice. So why exactly do you work so hard at the forge? You could just relax and do the work any tutor would expect his apprentice to do, but you keep on doing more. Why do you work as if your life depended on it?"

"Because," Hiccup simply replied with a tired smile, "It does depend on it."

"Explain."

"I thought you didn't care about either my past or my future." He quipped, reminding her of the words she had used upon first meeting him. For one second, he thought she was going to hit him but she only crossed her arms in front of her chest in a defiant manner, telling him not to push his luck. He complied.

"You know I am not from Ireland. I was shipwrecked and somehow ended up on an Irish beach; it was next to the village of Teilann…providing there still _is _a village after Holin and his men attacked it."

Aileene was starting to understand. "Let me guess. You're a prisoner."

"Indeed I am. When Holin's men captured me, I told them I was a good blacksmith in the hope that it would prevent them from killing me. And, well," Hiccup concluded softly as he remembered the cruel fate that awaited Kiristi and the other prisoners, "So far, so good."

"But that doesn't explain why you're saying that your life depends on how well you work at the forge."

"That's because Holin promised that if I succeeded in proving I really am the useful, skilled smith I told him I was, then," the young man explained with a sense of desperation and hope burning in his green eyes, "he would consider freeing me... I only want to get home."

Aileene frowned, but whether it was because of what he just told her or something else, Hiccup did not know.

"I see…," she simply said while handing him the wooden trail she'd previously carried with her into the room. There was a simple bowl on it, but the soup that filled it was hot and smelled so good Hiccup's stomach immediately groaned in approval.

He apologized, smiling, and she shrugged it off, telling him to help himself. None of them talked while he was eating and it was only when the bowl was completely empty that Aileene dared to utter the other question that had been tugging at her mind.

"How did you get this?" She asked, designing the young man's stump with her right forefinger. He looked down for a moment, quickly remembering the ferocious battle during which much was lost but more was gained. He didn't want to lie to the blonde woman beside him, but he knew he couldn't tell her the exact truth either so he chose to give her the simplest and most elusive answer he could think of.

"A dragon."

"Oh. Must have been painful."

"You mean when he ripped my leg off? Can't say. I wasn't conscious."

"You don't sound like you resent that dragon that much."

Hiccup looked at Aileene incredulously and then burst into unrestrained laughter whereas she thought he had suddenly lost his mind. When he calmed down, Hiccup had one of his brightest smiles gracing his tired features.

"Resent Tooth- I mean, how could I resent that dragon? He saved my life. But enough about me. If I may ask this, Aileene…why do _you_ hide your face behind that piece of old fabric?"

Silence fell, heavy and uncomfortable. Aileene's deep blue eyes unexpectedly brimmed with tears of what he assumed were hatred, despair and anguish. Hiccup noticed the way her shoulders started shaking uncontrollably. She looked like she was about to implode but was all of a sudden unable to form a single word. Her breathing accelerated so much he was sure he could almost hear the thumping of her heart beating violently against her ribcage.

Rising to her feet without giving any kind of answer but still betrayed by her body language, Aileene turned her back on his apprentice as she slowly walked over to one of the windows of the room.

"You will stay here tonight. Try to get some rest."

"But…What about you? Where are you-

"**Bloody hell, Feren, that is none of your damn business!** Why can't you just accept things the way they are? Why do you _constantly_ feel the need to search for answers that should _never_ be revealed, regardless of the harm they may do?"

"Because I have seen the disasters that 'accepting things the way they are' without questioning them can lead to."

The both of them stared at one another for a moment before Aileene snorted in disbelief and – Hiccup was now sure of it – hurt. "Tell me, Feren, would you still say the same thing if disaster had struck already? Because _this_," she told him ferociously whilst slowly starting to remove the veil from her face, "Is not something you can change."

The veil was lifted.

Hiccup's jaw dropped as his eyes widened in pure shock and instant horror.

"By Odin's Eye…," he barely whispered, all of a sudden able to see through her harsh and cold behavior, "Who did-

"Why does it matter? Why should you care? Why _would_ you care?"

"Why did you care about my leg? You could have simply ignored it but you did not."

"It's not the same."

"Yes it is. And even if it wasn't, I don't need a reason to care for you. But you have to _let_ me care, Aileene. I know it's not like I can do much…but if there's something I can do, then please let me help you."

"You don't understand. It's too late, Feren. It's simply too late."

She walked away from her apprentice, deliberately preventing him from answering anything and carefully replacing the piece of fabric in front of her features again. She could feel his distressed gaze upon her until the very moment she closed the door behind her and headed for the Tower of Dún Fionnachaidh.

* * *

The night had fallen for a little while already when Aileene eventually reached the highest level of the Tower, the exact place where General Holin's private quarters were. She felt sick and tired but it wasn't like she had any choice.

Ignoring the more than obscene motions the guards made, sniggering disgustingly, as she passed by them, the fair-haired woman came to a stop in front of the massive door that would led her to her destination. There, sitting on a rudimentary stool was a rather young soldier who occupied himself by sharpening his dagger with just as much method as she would have, and that was definitely saying something. He didn't deign looking up at her, either pretending he had not seen her yet or, if he had, thinking she wasn't worth the effort. Whatever the case, she was not in the mood to have a meaningless conversation with a subaltern officer.

"General Holin is expecting me."

The soldier stopped his sharpening session with a snicker and Aileene instantly noticed his face wasn't familiar at all, which was really odd since she knew for a fact Holin wasn't one to change his habits in the blink of an eye, and it was exactly the same when it came to the soldiers he chose to guard his personal room.

"Yes, he told me to let you get inside."

"So would you mind opening the door?"

"Hey, I'm not stopping you."

Aileene wanted nothing more than to make him swallow his words there and then for humiliating her like that, but he obviously did not care and Holin wasn't known for his patience. Not even when it came to her. Forgetting about the guard who couldn't help but wish her a 'good night', she opened the massive door and quietly made her way towards the General's bedroom.

When she finally spotted him, he was leaning against the wall watching the sun set over Dún Fionnachaidh, drinking a glass of wine. His long red hair was cascading down his torso, the bulging muscles of his shoulder blades making her feel like a hopeless prey.

He was almost completely nude already, and even though his athletic body could have looked beautiful and attractive to another woman, Aileene only wanted to throw up. She stopped by the edge of the wide bed she had come to hate more than anything else in the world, knowing Holin was perfectly aware she was there.

"Would you like to share a drink with me, Aileene?"

Lord, she hated him so much. The mere sound of his voice was enough to give her goose bumps, and pleasure certainly had nothing to do with it.

"You know I don't drink. Why did you attack the village of Teilann?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Because."

"How can you say that? People died for nothing because of you! You have no honor, Holin. You're nothing but a bloody bastard and if-

He moved too fast for her to realize straight away what he was doing and before she knew it his powerful hand was coiling around her neck, the unspoken threat crystal clear in his furious eyes.

"You forget your place, woman. Let me remind you that I only need to snap my fingers to seal your fate."

She didn't reply anything, focusing on her breathing instead of his words. Satisfied with her submissive silence, Holin lessened the pressure little by little, slowly releasing Aileene's neck to let his hands wander shamelessly under her tunic. He could feel shivers running down her spine.

"By the way," he continued with the tone of a pleasant conversation whilst forcing her to arch her head so his mouth could get more access to her neck, "How's that apprentice of yours doing?"

She swallowed with difficulty, the caring face of Feren passing briefly in front of her mind's eye whilst she felt the General's hands brushing against her breasts under her tunic, and familiar revulsion surged to every part of her body at once. "He's doing fine," she told Holin, trying her best to sound nonchalant when all she wanted to do was run away from him and his ugly fingertips. "He's a hard worker, dynamic, efficient and he's also a better smith than I ever was."

She felt him chuckle madly against her collarbone, not even bothering to stop peppering her sensitive skin with rough kisses that made her recoil with disgust and shame.

"Then this may well be the first time I won't regret having had mercy for a prisoner's life. What is his name again?"

"Feren Rurikson. He told me you said you would consider freeing him if he worked hard enough."

"I say a lot of things, Aileene, you should know it by now," he quipped, sincerely amused by her candor.

"You lied to him."

The General lifted his head up, looking the woman in front of him in the eye as he forced her to remove her tunic, quickly followed by her pair of trousers.

"Of course I did. I had to give him a reason to work hard, didn't I? Oh, and, by the way, I had the visit of a certain Sorian today. He brought me a message from Roth."

Aileene felt as if her blood had turned cold. Too shocked, for she knew there was no way the message could have been good news if Roth was indeed its expeditor, she offered no resistance when Holin pushed her on the bed, letting his most primary instincts take over him.

"Roth will be here by next week. Now I don't know exactly why, but the point is that he is extremely pissed off for some reason. And you know how unpredictable he gets when he's beside himself, don't you?"

Aileene could only nod, dreading whatever Holin was going to say next, even though his chapped lips were busy traveling down to her navel.

"I want you and mostly that Feren Rurikson of yours to forge a sword for Roth in order to appease him. I'll pay for the best materials, but the both you had better create the best blade of your miserable lives if you wish to keep your respective heads on your shoulders."

No other words were exchanged after that.

Later, when the General lay sleeping beside her, now completely spent, Aileene could only gaze at the ceiling and concentrate on the feeling of her bitter tears rolling freely down her hidden cheeks.

"It's too late, Feren," she whispered hoarsely to herself, "It is simply too late."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: First of all, a ton of thanks from the bottom of my heart to all of you who sent me words of sympathy. Really, thank you. You have no idea how much they are appreciated. **

**Secondly, well, thank you yet again for the wonderful reviews you've given me. **

**Thirdly, of course, I hope you will enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Indeed, t's a very important chapter for the rest of this story. It may even be the last full chapter of _Lacrimosa_, the first arc of _Beyond the Realms_. I still need to decide whether the next chapter will be, well, a chapter or if I will divide it in several parts so it can become an epilogue. **

**Which means that a BIG revelation is coming up. ;-) **

**I think that's all for now. Have fun! =)**

* * *

Sitting as comfortably as possible on his horse, Tiernan watched his men as they prepared themselves to leave the place they had camped at for a couple of days already. A week had gone by since they had left the ravaged village of Teilann and they were now getting closer to the city of Dún Fionnachaidh with each passing day, following meticulously the trail Lytah's spear indicated. Tiernan did not exactly know why but the idea that his twin sister might have been living in a place so familiar for such a long time without him knowing about it disturbed him greatly. However, the fairly young captain knew this was neither the time nor the place to reflect about this particular matter.

His soldiers were working quickly and efficiently, folding the tents, extinguishing the bonfires and loading whatever items they needed to take with them. The sound of their armors clattering with every move they made was synonymous of work for Tiernan and always reminded him of his responsibilities as their leader. He knew they trusted him with their lives and he did the same in return. He also knew how much Holin disapproved of this – the General did not see the point of creating bonds with one's soldiers. However, since Tiernan and his men had never given him a reason to complain about, Holin more or less allowed him to lead them the way he wanted. The captain took this as a sign of trust and recognition of his military capacities. That was one of the reasons he could not allow himself to let trouble infiltrate his troops, not even if said trouble introduced itself under the shape of a Viking woman who happened to be accompanied by a tiny dragon to which he'd had the unpleasant experience of refusing food to. The burn on the back of his left hand was there to testify it.

Tiernan still did not trust her – and it seemed she knew it perfectly well- but he could not deny it; Astrid Hofferson – or whatever her name was – had behaved admirably well up until now. She kept silent most of the time, riding along with him and the Ciar Knights but never really interacting with them, although he could tell his men were slowly but surely taking a liking to her. He scowled at the idea, not really wishing to know why it bothered him so much. He just wanted things to be the way they had always been even though he was aware that such a thing was unlikely to happen as long as Astrid would stay amongst them. He remembered the moment he had allowed her to call him by his first name, which none of his soldiers did, not even those he trusted the most. Tiernan knew that some of his men found this quite funny and he did not like the amused whispers that seemed to follow him around wherever he went one bit.

Looking around to supervise how fast things went so he could roughly evaluate how many miles they would ride this day, Tiernan's serious gaze suddenly caught a glimpse of a golden braid he was starting to recognize just a little bit too fast for his own liking. Frowning for a reason he decided to conveniently ignore, he observed the way she was taking care of her mount, gently stroking the stallion's muzzle and apparently making sure it was okay with having that stupid Terrible Terror –that was the name of the beast's breed, according to Astrid- resting on its croup. The stallion did not flinch, and judging by the way its ears pointed confidently towards the fair-haired woman, Tiernan could tell that the animal trusted its rider entirely.

As if on cue, Astrid suddenly turned round and her deep blue eyes locked with the captain's for a brief instant. Although he was mentally cursing himself for being so obvious, Tiernan did not make the slightest move. He did not look down for he knew it would mean she was taking advantage over him, which, he instantly decided, she _was not_. But then, she unexpectedly _smiled _a very much knowing smile at him before turning her back on him again and putting her left foot in the stirrup of her saddle, and he could feel blood rush to his cheeks violently.

He blamed it on the cold wind.

What had gotten into him? He knew next to nothing about Astrid, safe for the fact that she was looking for someone on this island and that she was a more than accomplished warrior. And a _Viking _warrior at that! In retrospect, the captain felt like he never should have accepted to let her travel with him for he was convinced one could never trust a person who came from the icy north. But it was simply too late now. "_Oh, well,_" he told himself in order to get rid of his troubled thoughts once and for all, "_At least I can keep an eye on her_. _This way, if she tries anything suspicious, I'll be the first one to know about it_."

Shaking his brain back into place, the captain made his own horse turn round so he could take the lead of the procession of knights that waited for him. He did not need to say a word; he had earned his men's respect a long time ago. They would follow him wherever he went and stand by his side until their very last breath.

However, when he started hearing his soldiers' weak attempts to come on to Astrid Hofferson - who was currently busy eating an apple for breakfast on top of her black stallion - he swore he was ready to slice their throats there and then. Glancing above his shoulder just in time to see Quinn's horse lick one of Astrid's hands in sudden interest, he wished he could become deaf for the next couple of minutes.

"I think he likes you." Quinn told Astrid with an honest smile. Ever since he had started recovering from his injuries, the massive man seemed to have taken it upon himself to keep company to the woman who'd saved him from a painful and excruciatingly slow death.

"He's not the only one!" Another knight quipped instantly, making all the others burst into a fit of laughter whereas Astrid merely rolled her eyes in what Tiernan suspected was nothing but mock exasperation.

So when said woman drew level with him, he pretended to ignore her as well as the way her pelvis smoothly accompanied the movements of her mount. Feeling his own eyes widen as his brain processed this last thought, Tiernan felt an indescribable urge to tell her to clear off. The problem being, of course, that he could not do so unless he really wanted to become the laughing-stock of his troops.

They rode in silence for a while and the captain had a nagging feeling that the woman beside him knew perfectly well why he was acting the way he was and that she was actually enjoying it, which only served to infuriate him further.

He would never know how right he was.

Astrid was no fool. She knew Tiernan was having difficulties trusting her because of her origins but she had – of course - also seen the way the captain kept stealing glances at her when he thought she was not looking and even though she let him go away with it most of the time, she just could not resist the temptation to catch him red-handed every now and then. She thought it was funny how not even Hiccup had ever been that obvious.

"Where are we going today?" She asked nonchalantly, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

"I don't know yet."

She did not buy it. He should have known she would not. "Come on."

He glared at her. She only raised her eyebrows in response, obviously fighting back a smile.

"I told you. I. Don't. Know. Yet. If you really want to know, which I doubt you do by the way, for now I'm using my first and most useful weapon."

"Really? What's that?"

"Patience."

"Oh, I've heard of that," Astrid countered, grinning. "Isn't it a substitute for decisive thinking?"

"**For the love of**- When I need your opinion, I'll ask for it!"

"My, you're touchy."

"I'm not '_touchy_'!"

"Yes you are."

"You just can't shut your mouth, can you?"

"Nope."

"**Fine!** If everything goes according to plan, we should arrive at the friary of Ceartlár by sunset. I want to ask the friars some questions and I will need them to take us in for the night so I can get some answers. There, happy?"

"As a matter of fact, yes I am. Thank you very much," Astrid replied with a sense of satisfaction practically emanating from her, "Tiernan."

He could not help but curse under his breath as he watched her return at Quinn's side as if nothing had happened. He hated her ability to get him to talk when he obviously did not want to and he loathed just as much the way her body moved impossibly beautifully with every stride of her stallion. And of course, he did not appreciate the way her long golden hair seemed to fly behind her. Or did he? By God, just when did he start thinking such corny things?

As for Astrid, she resumed riding silently, occasionally stroking Ruffnut's Terrible Terror behind her and mostly observing the various landscapes and waterscapes that surrounded her. Looking up, she gazed at the black clouds that came from the north and hovered high above the land, coloring it with dark shades that shifted with the clever wind. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a mass of bright colors that seemed to be following the procession of Ciar Knights from the sky.

Shielding her eyes from the light to make sure she wasn't making things up, she peered at the vast and familiar figure. Now that her attention had been drawn to it, there was no possible mistake. She smiled knowingly almost in spite of herself and silently blessed Hiccup and his teachings.

Starkad was following her.

* * *

At the friary of Ceartlár, Nolan was busy carrying Friar Curren's instructions to the letter. The old and yet still vigorous man had asked him to help the friars who needed scrolls to be transferred from the scriptorium to the library. The boy took great care to avoid tripping over his own feet for fear of damaging the precious pieces of parchment. He now knew how much time the friars needed to trace a single letter – let alone decorate it – and he felt deeply honored that the faithful men who had taken him in without a second's hesitation would entrust him with their incredible work. Sometimes, they even asked him to watch over the newest skins as they slowly dried on the walls of a special room located next to the forge of the friary so the skins could benefit from its great warmth.

Nolan was trying his best to focus on his new life in Ceartlár even though he was still haunted by his dark memories. At night, he did not sleep much; he was too scared of his own dreams. He did everything he was asked to do without complaining but the friars saw how still very much hurt the child was. They tried to involve him in their daily activities to keep him busy but it seemed his spirit was always too far away for him to concentrate properly. That was why he usually remained at Friar Curren's side so he could have someone to talk to whenever he felt the need.

But Nolan never talked.

Stepping over the threshold of the library, the ginger-haired boy could not help but admire the numerous stained glass that illuminated the circular room with hundreds different dots of bright colors. There, standing at the centre of knowledge, Nolan felt at peace with himself. He loved smelling the scrolls –especially the oldest ones – or brushing his fingertips over the fragile pages of the multitude of books that were constantly guarded by the loyal, flickering glow of candle light.

Methodically, he started sorting out the newest scrolls with the older ones, taking great care not to put them with the palimpsests, where they did not belong. The friars paid a lot of attention to the library and so did he. He had great respect for this place where one could feel a lightening of the spirit without even trying. The books did not hurt him. They never would. Not on purpose. So he liked them, feeling like they could whisper their precious secrets if he listened well enough.

He could hear the sly wind blowing relentlessly outside and suddenly remembered he was supposed to feed the horses at the stable. His steps echoing on the cold rocky floor, he quickly made his way back outside where the sky was turning so dark he was sure a storm would make itself known before long. The atmosphere was becoming heavy and he could see dozens of birds flying back to their nests, flapping their wings as hard as they could while they fought against the air currents with all their might.

Nolan ran. He was about halfway from the stable when he heard the first roll of thunder. Breathing in and out deeply, he sped up the pace; all around him, the friars who had been busy working in the gardens were hurrying up to take shelter as well, not really paying attention to him. It would soon be time for Vespers anyway. The bells would ring and by then he would be forced to come back to the chapel and pray with the friars when all he wanted to do was being on his own.

He kept running.

Nolan arrived at the stable just in time. As soon as he stepped inside, a downpour started falling from the black skies as if the Lord Himself were pouring His holy wrath on the unfortunate friary of Ceartlár. Panting slightly, the boy listened to the constant melody of raindrops crashing onto the roof and watched the bolts of lightning for a little while, sometimes gasping quietly when they seemed to rip off the heavens themselves.

The horses were neighing nervously, obviously frightened by the violent noise and Nolan quickly fetched the old pitchfork that was lying in a corner of the stable so he could feed the noble animals relatively large amounts of hay and get them to calm down. Along with the library, the stable was one of his favorite places in Ceartlár. Just like the books, the horses did not ask him questions he did not want to think or talk about.

Soon enough, the animals seemed satisfied for they stopped pawing on the ground and, consequently, the stable grew much quieter. Nolan allowed a small smile to creep on his lips while he gently stroke Cion, a five months old female foal whose bay coat was so soft it made him forget about everything else. He thought it was a bit strange how the foal's legs seemed highly disproportionate in comparison to the rest of its body, but he liked it somehow. The friars had also told him that Cion's mother died when she had given birth to her offspring, which was why they had to feed the foal themselves until the end of weaning. But right now, the poor creature was purely shaking with terror each time thunder rumbled and Nolan could not help but sympathize with her.

"Shhh, Cion," he cooed gently in the foal's ear in what he hoped was a soothing voice, "Calm down. It's okay. It's only a storm. Nothing's going to happen to you, I promise. It's alright."

The animal neighed softly twice before it started rubbing its muzzle against the child's warm palms. Nolan felt a bolt of simple joy and pride surge through him upon seeing how much Cion seemed to trust him. He was just about to snake his arms around the foal's already broad and muscular neck when a peculiar and all too familiar sound resonated through the courtyard of the friary. Nolan's blue eyes almost disappeared under his furrowed eyebrows as the entrance bell of Ceartlár rang loudly through the din of the storm. It was the very same bell Brian had rung when he had first brought him to this place.

Someone was asking for permission to enter. Taking a peek through the door of the stable, Nolan saw a couple of friars running to the main gate, following the lead of Friar Curren. In a matter of mere seconds, Nolan decided to do the same, not caring one bit about the fact that he was going to get drenched. He still took the time to say goodbye to Cion who watched him leave with obvious curiosity and interest before he disappeared into the heavy curtains of rain. Straining his muscles and bones, Nolan ran with his gaze stubbornly fixed on the gate of the friary. He hoped he would get there before the friars actually opened it so he could stand at Friar Curren's side and observe the visitors as much as he wanted to without anyone telling him he was being rude.

But of course, he had no such luck.

The gate was opened with difficulty because of the mud but it was what it revealed that made the ginger-haired boy stop dead in his tracks, his mouth opening in the shape of a horrified 'o' as he instantly recognized the riders that were entering the friary of Ceartlár without a care in the world as the Ciar Knights, the very men who destroyed his village and abducted his mother as well as Hiccup. Blurred memories violently flooded his mind whilst he kept staring at the leader of the black-armored soldiers – the army Kiel, his own older brother, was a part of – as he engaged in a conversation with Friar Curren. Nolan _knew_ he had already seen that man, but he could not recall exactly when. He was trying to remember that crucial piece of information when he felt like he was being watched. Looking up, the boy noticed a blonde woman riding beside the leader of the knights and he almost shivered under the intensity of her gaze. He lowered his eyes, feeling uncomfortable for a reason he couldn't fathom.

"…and I was wondering if you could put us up until tomorrow morning."

And then it hit him.

This was the man who had chased after him and Hiccup when they had been trying to escape from the massacre of Teilann; the man whose horse had been stopped by a providential arrow, which had granted Hiccup enough time to shove him into Dalkor's arms. A lump forming itself in his throat, Nolan hoped with every fiber of his being that Friar Curren would tell the soldiers to go away and find some other place to spend the night.

"Of course we can. Do come in, captain, you and your men are most welcome at the friary of-

"No!"

The words left his mouth before he could stop them and suddenly everyone was staring at him. He thought he might as well carry on before he became unable to fight his tears back.

"No, please don't do this! You can't…They're- They're murderers!"

But the only reply he got was a disapproving frown from Friar Curren and a complete silence that was only broken by the constant symphony of raindrops. Trembling violently, feeling hurt and betrayed, Nolan turned round and ran away from the main gate, his tears and cries disappearing behind the walls of the friary even though he was completely aware that an umpteenth pair of incredulous eyes were watching him.

"Don't pay attention to him, captain," Friar Curren explained after a little while, "The boy dances to his own tune."

Tiernan frowned, not looking particularly convinced. "If you say so," he complied, deciding to drop the matter. He had more important things to deal with, after all. Raising his right hand above his head, he gave the signal his men were waiting for. Slowly but surely, the Ciar Knights entered the friary, feeling relieved at the prospect of getting a little bit of rest as well as a hot meal.

"Rules changed?" Friar Curren asked the captain all of a sudden, designating the woman who had not spoken a word ever since he had opened the main gate.

"She's a traveler. Don't ask."

"Very well. This way, if you please."

Whereas the rest of the Ciar Knights led their respective horses to the nearby stable, Astrid kept staring at the direction the red-haired child had disappeared into. She was convinced he was perfectly sane, regardless of what Tiernan had just been told about him. Something disastrous must have happened to that boy, she decided, something that the friars must have known about but refused to mention and she fully intended to find out what it was.

"Call it feminine intuition, Spark," she told Ruffnut's Terrible Terror as he climbed up her back to perch himself on her shoulder, "But I'm sure this kid can help us."

She knew she would have to wait for the right moment, though. Shrugging, Astrid followed the rest of the procession, her mind already setting up a plan that would enable her to escape from Tiernan's attention.

* * *

The night had fallen upon the friary of Ceartlár and the rain had stopped for a little while, letting a cold wind replace it once again. Under normal circumstances, the friary would have been utterly silent at this hour of night but the Ciar Knights were still gorging themselves on meat and wine in the refectory of the friary, some of them singing drinking songs with their loudest voices when they did not end up throwing up in a corner of the room. The friars, even though their anger -caused by such a disrespectful behavior- was perfectly apparent, they did not say a word. It seemed that only Tiernan remained more or less sober and alert, much to Astrid's increasing annoyance.

She was eating her food with all the speed of a slug, her mind completely focused on the captain and the way she would get out of the refectory without him noticing her. So far, however, her efforts had proved to be useless for the captain never seemed to take his eyes off of her even though he did his best not to show it. Clenching her fists under the table to release some of her frustration, Astrid looked around herself methodically when a flash of orange hair caught her eye.

She peered at the entrance of the refectory to see the ginger-haired boy from earlier looking angrily at the commotion the soldiers were rudely making. She could not see his face as well as she would have wanted, but even from where she was, she could tell the boy was upset and furious. He kept staring at the Ciar Knights as if he wanted nothing more than to kill them all at once by merely snapping his fingers.

And then, their respective gazes somehow met for the second time that day. And for the second time that day, Astrid was astonished by the spark of intelligence she could detect in the boy's eyes. He did not, however, grant her any more time to study him; a mere second after their eyes locked, his whole body tensed and he span round and dashed outside, his small body disappearing within the night's thick cloak.

Glancing at her side, Astrid suddenly realized Tiernan had actually gotten up and was providentially taking it out on two completely drunk soldiers who were busy trying to start a fight. She rose to her feet instantly and made sure to hide behind one of the numerous pillars of stone that supported the ceiling of the refectory. There, merging with the shade, she strode along to where the door was and, upon taking one last look above her shoulder to check whether she was being followed or not, she exited the building as noiselessly as the graceful flight of a barn owl. Breathing in and out in relief, Astrid paused to enjoy the cool night air that felt incredibly good on her face before she looked down and easily spotted the boy's footprints.

"Well," she commented aloud much like Hiccup would have done while Ruffnut's Terrible Terror emitted a series of inquisitive sounds, "This shouldn't be too difficult. Come on, Spark, let's find our little friend."

Following the fresh trail with no problem whatsoever, Astrid was surprised to spot her target much sooner than she'd expected. The boy was standing in the middle of the courtyard of the friary, completely motionless and obviously staring into space. He was shivering from head to toe, she noticed, but he did not seem to pay any sort of attention to that.

"Hey!" She called out to him loudly enough for him to jump with a start even though that had not been her intention in the first place. The boy turned round to find out who was talking to him with an almost visible jab of pure fear coursing through his veins. And when he seemed to register that it was _her_, he simply fled.

"Hey! Wait!" Astrid shouted without a second's hesitation, immediately breaking into a sprint to catch up with him, "Come back! I'm not going to hurt you!"

Whether he heard her or not, she did not know. The only thing she knew was that whether he did hear her or not, he certainly did not stop running, let alone come back to where she was. She sped up the pace; she wanted – needed to talk to that boy and she would be dammed if she did not succeed in getting him to speak. It wasn't long before she saw him enter a circular building that looked like another part of the friary she had failed to notice before. Immediately, Astrid slowed down for she knew the boy could not escape from her anymore.

The door creaked when she pushed it, as if it did not want her to discover the sacred place it shielded from the cold. There was no sign of her young target.

"Oh, perfect. Everybody knows hide-and-seek is my favorite hobby."

Stepping quietly inside the building, Astrid felt her eyes widen in astonishment. It was huge and circular, illuminated by both candle light and the silver moonlight beams that were showing through colored windows the like of which she had never seen before. Characters had been painted on them, making the glass appear like a wordless story. Astrid did not know what it meant, but she thought it was beautiful. All around her were hundreds of books and scrolls that gave this place an aura of wisdom and mystery yet to be discovered that she thought felt almost otherworldly. She suddenly forgot the reason why she'd come to this place for a couple of seconds, feeling like she was being swallowed by the sheer knowledge which had been stored in this library –for that was obviously what it was – for the Gods only knew how long.

Looking down at her feet, she noticed concentric circles that had been carved onto the rocky floor. Almost in spite of herself, Astrid followed them to their very centre which, she realized upon brushing her fingers against the smooth and precious surface, was a relatively large representation of the sun. It was made out of gold. Crouching, she could make out an inscription that had been carved all around it but she could not read it. It was written in what she supposed was Latin.

"Aaaaa-choo!"

The spell was shattered.

Astrid's head instantly jerked up, searching for the source of the familiar noise and she couldn't help but chuckle tolerantly when her gaze fell upon some kind of altar that was covered by a long piece of white fabric at the back of the library. The poor kid might as well have painted a sign on it.

A very much knowing and amused smile gracing her lips, she took a couple of steps forward, her right palm resting loosely on Dagmar's pommel.

"Between you and me, you could have found a better hiding place, don't you think?"

She saw movement under the fabric and the red-haired boy slowly left the altar, looking both incredibly flustered and scared – even though he tried concealing his fear with anger. It did not work, of course, but she did not have the heart of telling him so. She simply kept walking towards him. Astrid thought her body language made it clear enough that she meant no harm, but he did not seem to agree the slightest for he rushed to the nearest candlestick he could reach and hold it at arms' length like he wanted to protect himself with it. She froze.

"If you've come to kill me," Nolan proclaimed with as much faith as he could muster, "you will have to fight me first!"

An incredulous look painted itself on Astrid's face as she looked forth and back between the boy and Spark as if she were asking for the tiny dragon's opinion. And then, she burst out laughing, leaving her young opponent utterly confused. "I'm being serious!" he insisted angrily, making another fit of hilarity rise through her throat. It took her a moment to calm down.

"Don't be ridiculous, kiddo." She replied with an indulgent smile.

"I'm not ridiculous!" He countered instantly, feeling like she was insulting him. "I'm not a coward!"

"No, that much is obvious," she conceded, still smiling, while she took a seat on one of the benches of the library, "You're not a coward. You certainly are a bit naïve, though, but given your age, there's nothing to worry about."

Nolan lowered the candlestick he was holding, taken aback by the blonde woman's attitude but still not feeling comfortable around her, especially not as he watched her unsheathe her sword. "What do you mean?"

She looked him in the eye. "Listen. I'm not here to hurt you. You can trust me on this, kid; had I really wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already." Ever so slowly, Astrid lowered Dagmar and gently put it on the ground, where it would not be considered a threat.

Nolan stared at the magnificent sword for a little while, fascinated, before he looked up again to meet the young woman's intense gaze. "What do you want, then?"

"Nothing special, really. I was only hoping we could have a little chat together."

"About what?"

"For example, about the reason why you seem to hate the Ciar Knights so much."

Nolan instantly recoiled. "Why should I trust you? You're with them!"

"No, I'm not. I'm only travelling with them. The Gods only know what could happen to a single woman if she happened to travel on her own."

"The Gods? You mean you have more than one?"

It was Astrid's turn to be taken aback by the boy's question. "Of course I do. How many do you have?"

"Just one."

"Just one?" Now that was a strange concept if she ever heard one. "What does he take care of? Love? War? Twilight?"

The boy kept silent and looked at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"Nevermind that. What's your name?"

"Nolan."

"Well then, Nolan, I can promise you that I have not sided with the Ciar Knights. I am merely benefiting from their reluctant protection."

"You don't look like you need anyone's protection."

She laughed again, appreciating the boy's wit that reminded her of Hiccup's.

"Alright. Since there's nothing that can escape your attention, I come from a Viking tribe that lives far from here, much more to the north."

Much to her surprise, Nolan's eyes all of a sudden filled with tears. She did not know why, but an almost unbearable urge to pull the child into a hug and comfort him coursed through her entire being at once. She did not fight it and opened her arms. The boy hesitated for a second before he literally ran into them and pressed his head against her stomach, his arms encircling her waist as he cried quietly, holding onto her as if he never wanted to let go.

"Hey, what's wrong?" She asked him, stroking his soft bright hair in previously unknown concern, "What did I say?"

He did not reply, of course. Imitating her actions, Spark took flight in order to perch himself on Nolan's shoulder and coil around the boy's neck, rolling his eyes out of worry and chirping pitifully. Nolan almost jumped with fear when he realized amidst his tears that a _dragon_ was actually nuzzling him. The blonde woman told him to calm down, told him that there was nothing to be afraid of and somehow, he felt like she was telling the truth and, consequently, he slowly allowed himself to relax within her warm embrace.

"What happened?"

"They destroyed my village." He whispered hoarsely against her tunic.

"Who did that?" She asked him gently. No reply came, so she insisted. "Nolan, who did that?"

"The Ciar Knights. They came to Teilann and…they killed everyone. They took my mother…And…and…"

_Teilann. _Astrid's brows furrowed upon hearing that name, understanding what must have happened to the child she was holding in her arms. He'd lost everything, she realized. His home, his family…

"They took Hiccup, too…" Nolan finished in an almost inaudible whisper.

Astrid felt like she'd been hit by a bolt of lightning. _Hiccup. _Grabbing the ginger-haired boy's shoulders and crouching down to his level with a spark of indescribable hope glowing in her eyes, she forced him to look at her.

"Tell me more!"

"I-I found a young man on the beach. He was hurt so my Mom and I took him to our house so she could heal him. When he woke up, he- he said his name was Hiccup and that he came from…from…"

"Berk?"

"Yes! Berk. That's the name he used."

"What happened to him?"

Nolan looked down and Astrid feared it was too late.

"He saved me," he confessed, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "But I'm not sure what happened to him after that. He may...He may have been killed. If not, the Knights probably took him away, but I don't know where to, I promise."

She could not believe it. Hiccup had been there when Tiernan and his men attacked the little village. And yet, Tiernan had told her that the only Viking –other than her, of course - he'd recently met with was named Feren Rurikson.

_Unless, of course…_

Mentally kicking herself for not having thought about it sooner, Astrid quickly put the pieces of the jigsaw together again. Hiccup had chosen another name to travel under. And Tiernan had told her that Feren Rurikson was alive, which meant that he had certainly not been killed by the Ciar Knights even though he had been made prisoner yet again. _Knowing Hiccup_, she reasoned, _he must have pulled out a trick of his own to stay alive. Now all I have to do is find where exactly he has been taken to._

"Why do you ask about him?" Nolan wondered aloud with interest and sudden curiosity.

She smiled.

"My name's Astrid Hofferson."

"You mean…you're saying you're the woman he told me about? The one he's in love with?"

She smiled again, a blush rising to her cheeks, and simply nodded once in response. He did not look convinced yet.

"If you're really Astrid, then tell me what the name of your sword is."

Gods, the boy was clever. Slowly, she motioned for him to look over to where her sword still laid, untouched and bare, its blade beautifully lit by the soft moonlight.

"This is Dagmar."

Nolan beamed at her.


End file.
